Nice little piano fills here and there rob

Production. Is key to a great song and you smashed it!!  Keep it up!!

Paroles

Ouais c'est samedi soir 
On va sortir  de nos campagnes 
On irait bien au greasy spoon 
Sans qu'on nous dise cassez pas les couilles.
On a lavé nos bagnoles et nos pompes.
Cheveux ultra brillants et jeans serrés.
Que vouloir de plus.
Si vous ne voulez pas de nous on vous cassera la gueule sur le comptoir.
Ouais. ouais 

C'est toujours comme ça au greasy spoon 
C'est toujours comme ça 
C'est toujours comme ça au greasy spoon 
C'est toujours comme ça 

C'est toujours ouvert pour les pouilleux 
C'est toujours là où vont les craignos 
C'est toujours ouvert pour les teigneux 
C'est toujours là où vont les crados 
C'est le rendez-vous des raclos 
 Seul endroit où tu vois tes potos 
C'est toujours ouvert c'est comme un bistrot 
C'est toujours ouvert.
C'est toujours ouvert.
Ça se passe comme ça au greasy spoon
Ça se passe comme ça.
J'suis encore défoncé au greasy spoon 
Et c'est comme ça.

Greasy Spoon

Au greasy spoon

Au Greasy Spoon

This song is about the illusion of 'maya', aka the 'simulation', and about how only divine love or 'bhakti' can penetrate its veils or coding. 

Lyrics and vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
Copyright © Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, May 2024, all rights reserved

Music by Paul Foss
Copyright © Paul Foss, May 2024, all rights reserved
Email: paul@paulfossmusic.com

Words:
You sent me the colours of a summer’s dawn 
On the morning of Solstice, last year. 
Wedding band gold and Bridie’s slipper pink,
Just one small, shy honeysuckle flower…
But it was enough to make your feelings clear. 

The bloom then faded, and it followed the Sun 
On its passage down to the Underworld, 
I looked every day, but no more have come. 
Yet your passion for me will last and last, 
For long after this life’s romance is done. 

You make love to me in every dimension, 
In every realm, but not, it seems, this one. 
I know you’re there, hiding in your creation 
Your love song, your maya simulation 
That masks you from the sight of my heart.
The juggler, the trickster, the mercurial mixer
Of this Venetian carnival’s Commedia Dell’arte. 

Sometimes you leave me tiny dew-drop diamonds 
To show you care, to show you’re really there 
In my night garden at dusk; then at midnight 
You come in my dreams to spirit me away
And up the stairway to paradise, 
To paradise … and your Divine Play.

Divine Commedia Dell'arte

The Divider

Classic Rock :

Empty streets and faded signs
Whisper tales of better times
Memories like autumn leaves
Scattered by a mournful breeze
I walk alone, my steps unsure
Through the mist of what we were

The ghosts of yesterday
Haunt every word we didn't say

We are the ghosts of yesterday
Shadows of what we used to be
Echoes of laughter, traces of tears
Fading like smoke through the years

In this twilight of regret
We're not ready to forget
The ghosts of yesterday
Still have so much left to say
Empty streets and faded signs

Whisper tales of better times
Memories like autumn leaves
Scattered by a mournful breeze
I walk alone, my steps unsure
Through the mist of what we were

The ghosts of yesterday
Haunt every word we didn't say

We are the ghosts of yesterday
Shadows of what we used to be
Echoes of laughter, traces of tears
Fading like smoke through the years
In this twilight of regret
We're not ready to forget
The ghosts of yesterday
Still have so much left to say

Old photographs in sepia tones
Remind me of the life we've known
Your smile frozen in time
When your hand was held in mine
Now I reach but grasp the air
Wishing you were still right there

The ghosts of yesterday
Linger in the price we pay

The ghosts of yesterday
Linger in the price we pay
Echoes of laughter, traces of tears
Fading like smoke through the years
In this twilight of regret
We're not ready to forget
The ghosts of yesterday
Still have so much left to say

As the sun sets on our past
We'll make these memories last
For the ghosts of yesterday
Guide us on our separate ways

Ghosts of Yesterday

Drifting

The end of the year is alwasy a moment for reflection. It can be happy it can be sad, it's always part of our experiences. But thinking that another year is coming and more opportunities can be created is a wonderful sensation.

Until Next Time

Snow Moon is the name of the full moon for February, and so this is the next track in our (as yet, unanamed) album that @APi_ZZ and I are making to honour each of the 12 moons of the year. We hope you enjoy it!

Words and vocals by Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
© Copyright Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, February 2025 

Music and cover art APi_ZZ
© Copyright APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) February 2025 

WORDS: 

Snow Moon came sailing in on a black anvil cloud
And gazed down at the red roofs in the hushed vale below.
The people were fatigued, that much she knew. 
They felt it had been a long time since Yule, 
The grey-skied days were taking their toll. 
She could hear them as they slumbered on.
Their dreams and prayers stole through her heart 
On their way up the silver stairway to the stars. 

She waved to Aquarius, the Water Bearer,
In no time, sparkling crystals filled his pails,
And he tipped them down towards the vale. 
White lace fractal flakes fell in silent veils, 
Each one complete in itself; unique in shape,
Swaying in murmurations, in soundless accord, 
Whispering into swansdown drifts and banks
And turning the valley into a winter wonderland. 

Snow Moon shone in pleasure at her twinkling boon
Until dawn, when the Sun rose to light the scene 
With an iridescent pink and coral sheen. 
Then two small boys pulled back their blinds, 
Rubbing the sleep from their eyes in delight 
And wonder that their whole world was now white. 
They ran downstairs: “Dad! It’s snow! It’s snow! 
“Do you think the schools will be closed?” 

Dad smiled at the memory of his first Snow Day. 
No trains could run; black ice covered the lanes
It was days before the snow ploughs got through. 
So he knew that there was only one thing to do. 
He went out to his shed, the boys jumping in tow, 
And he reached up to bring down an odd-looking gizmo, 
“What’s that, Dad?” his sons wanted to know,
“It’s a toboggan,” he replied with eyes alight. “Let’s go!”

Drifting

Rob Fletcher

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