Treacle Honey

Take Me

Stupid Skin On Stupid Bone

Something Better

Now It's A Party

I Served The King Of England

I write letters to you every day,
Sure that you get them but I'm sure that you throw them all away,
You don't read the words I have to say.

It gets colder here every night,
my bones keep breaking they're as brittle as the ice,
A word from you would be nice.

I've been screaming from the highest tower,
near the man with all the power,
But I feel I've been talking to myself.

Put me back on the bottom shelf,
Where I learned to help myself,
But I feel I've been sitting here for quite a while.

Cycled right up to your front door,
Turned around and cycled round the block once more,
Because darling how could I be sure.

Then the rain oh it started to pour,
Never felt pain like that in my heart before,
Burned my right down to the floor.

I've been screaming from the highest tower,
near the man with all the power,
But I feel I've been talking to myself.

Put me back on the bottom shelf,
Where I learned to help myself,
But I feel I've been sitting here for quite a while.




Towers

Shaking (demo)

What do you do with your days?
Play them out in your ways,
Do you think things could be better?

And what do my friends do with their friends?
Are they out on the weekend?
Or do they keep it behind closed doors.

I'm sure I'll realise in time,
if I live or waste my life,
Or am I where I want to be.

And my father is an old man,
but when he was a young man,
He was part of a wave.

Part of a, Part of a wave.
etc.

Looking back on it all,
Did you lay down or stand tall?
To all of life's expectations.

And all the time spent feeling blue,
What good did it do for you?
Though I know sometimes it can't be helped.

Is there anybody you left behind?
With whom you'd rather spent your life,
and does it haunt you to this day?

Was there any thing you regret?
Did things you'd rather forget?
Or are you just happy to have been part of a wave?

Part of a, part of a wave.
etc.



Part Of A Wave

Singer, guitar playing, drum tickling, song writing cretin living in London. Written and recorded by me.

Oliver Ninnis