Fantastic your rock sound. Very nice your guitar playing. I like it 🎸❤️🇨🇭🇦🇸😊

Chanson de circonstance où ta voix ( si c'est toi ) est mise en avant et c'est tant mieux car elle est vraiment faite pour ton style à la JJ Cale . 👍🎶💚

I love those dirty riffs! The panned guitars truly rocks!

A dreamy psychedelic vibe, love the arrangement well enjoyed!

excellente ambiance rock et qui penche aussi par moment un peu au psychedelic rock...et les voix comme les guitares, c'est encore trés réussi...et puis, j'adore aussi les effets guitares que tu utilises sur ce morceau...

Video for this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeX-4EudEqY
go here we go oh no 
Free yourself don't wait for nobody else to take you to the place you're dreaming of
Ask yourself inside you'll find the answer that your looking for
If you've been dealt a rotten hand from the gods its up to you to turn it back around
no one else can let you see the face you need to show
I can't take my time takes a lifetime to get to you 
I'm a bomb that's already been shot out there's nothing you can do
I can't take my time while exploiting yours you be wasting mine
I'm never gonna stop until we're laughing at the top 'till then I'll never let myself decay and rot
What you felt while you were down in a hole is what the people really want to know
You can't have wealth and fame without a little bit of trauma 
Got to free myself I've been drowned out and stuck in a realm of plastic faced and medicated souls
Do what I say poor boy and you'll be on your way to stardom
I can't take my time takes a lifetime to get to you 
I'm a bomb that's already been shot out there's nothing you can do
I can't take my time while exploiting yours you be wasting mine
I'm never gonna stop until we're laughing at the top 'till then I'll never let myself decay and rot next to you yeah 
Here's the face you need to show to be on your way to stardom

Mike Molino: Piano, vocals, lyrics;  Dave Ferrairo: Guitar, Bass, Drums

Lifetime

The burning eternal question - do you love me?
Do you love me, you love me?
Well so do people who sell ice-cream
They'll say anything, they think I'd like to hear

Do yo love me like they do?

Hey girl, you better watch out
cos people care not for what you may
Though it's written on their faces
They hide behind sweet words

Anybody for ice-cream (or tennis)?
(a nod to @nic_nic_nic: Nic for tennis suggestion)

Live Studio recording, engineered by Darren Flynn
Drums Steve O'Keeffe (The Pale/BluesConfidential  www.bluesconfidential.com
https://soundcloud.com/bluesconfidential) 
Bernard Byrne (The Pale)
Lead vocals, BV, guitar, art by Suzanne Ledwith

Change of Address

Hey Ho

Obituary

The head/heart ached and sleep was also lacking
If there was one constant thing in life it was the worry-making

Of that one had so much, such a heavy weight
One left the key at home and then just went away

Remember us driving to that italian monastery 
That New Years Eve, we stood at the railing and watched 

And the sun and the snowy mountain tops 
All above the clouds
That was a perfect moment

What has passed does not return, but if it went down shining, 
It shines back for a long long time

I did not know that the time would end so soon 
And i was so very badly surprised when i heard about it

Remember us driving to that italian monastery 
That New Years Eve, we stood at the railing and watched
 
What has passed does not return, but if it went down shining, 
It shines back for a long long time

… and the sun … and the snowy mountain tops ...
All above the clouds
That was a very perfect moment 
In time

Obituary

Pierre Bordetti productions (c) 11/2021.

Composed, arranged, performed, and produced by:
Pierre Bordetti

Spotify https://open.spotify.com/collection/tracks
qobuz  https://www.qobuz.com/fr-fr/album/my-november-rainbow-pierre-bordetti/rkrybl0cpfccb



*** My November Rainbow ***
Lyrics
In November,
rain and wind strike our skin,
In November,
the birds stop singing,
In November,
the sun forgets us,
In November,
the grayness invades us,
In November,
In November,

My Rainbow,
My rainbow suddenly rises,
My Rainbow,
My Rainbow,
My rainbow suddenly rises,

piercing the sky, lighting up my life,
piercing the sky, lighting up my life,

My Rainbow,
My rainbow suddenly rises,
My Rainbow,
My Rainbow,
My rainbow suddenly rises,

My November,
My November rainbow,
My November,
My November rainbow,
My November,
My November rainbow,

My November Rainbow

Room 237

Composed and produced by Chivicke
HomeStudio Productions ©2022
Image: Pexels

Coming Back Home

"Up in the Gallery" (German: "Auf der Galerie") is a short piece of fiction written by Franz Kafka. It was created between November 1916 and February 1917 and published in the collection „Ein Landarzt“ (A Country Doctor) in 1919. The story offers two versions of a scene in which a young man watches a circus ringmaster and a woman on horseback. (Wikipedia)

The picture shows a section of: At The Circus Fernando, The Rider
by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec (1888)

Public domain translation by Ian Johnston (November 2003)                     


Up in the Gallery

If some frail tubercular lady circus rider 
were to be driven in circles around and around 
the arena for months and months 
without interruption 
in front of a tireless public 
on a swaying horse 
by a merciless whip-wielding 
master of ceremonies, 
spinning on the horse, 
throwing kisses and swaying at the waist, 
and if this performance, 
amid the incessant roar 
of the orchestra and the ventilators, 
were to continue into 
the ever-expanding, gray future, 
accompanied by applause, 
which died down and then swelled up again, 
from hands which were really steam hammers, 
perhaps then a young visitor to the gallery 
might rush down the long stair case 
through all the levels, 
burst into the ring, and cry “Stop!” 
through the fanfares 
of the constantly adjusting orchestra.


But since things are not like that,
(Since things are not like that…rep.)         

since a beautiful woman, in white and red, 
flies in through curtains 
which proud men in livery open in front of her, 
since the director, 
devotedly seeking her eyes, 
breathes in her direction, 
behaving like an animal, and, as a precaution, 
lifts her up on the dapple-gray horse, 
as if she were his grand daughter, 
the one he loved more 
than anything else,
as she starts a dangerous journey, 
but he cannot decide to give the signal with his whip 
and finally, 
controlling himself, gives it a crack, 
runs right beside the horse with his mouth open, 
follows the rider's leaps with a sharp gaze, 
hardly capable of comprehending her skill, 
tries to warn her by calling out in English, 
furiously castigating the grooms holding hoops, 
telling them to pay the most scrupulous attention, 
and begs the orchestra, with upraised arms,
to be quiet before the great jump, 
finally lifts the small woman down from the trembling horse, 
kisses her on both cheeks, 
considers no public tribute adequate, 
while she herself, leaning on him, 
high on the tips of her toes, 
with dust swirling around her, 
arms outstretched and head thrown back, 
wants to share her luck with the entire circus—
since this is how things are, 
the visitor to the gallery puts his face on the railing and, 
sinking into the final march as if into a difficult dream, weeps, 
without realizing it.  (rep.)

Up In The Gallery (Kafka, 1919)

Cindy and her Glasses

sweet dreams.......my precious one.
sweet dreams.......my precious one.

last track of the album...........outro.

My November Rainbow

Pierre Bordetti

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