Poetry & Song: A Note of Love

This song is part of 'The Place I Don't Belong' EP: https://soundcloud.com/lazyavenue/sets/the-place-i-dont-belong-ep

Song &  Album Download available from: 
[ Bandcamp ]: https://lazyavenue.bandcamp.com/album/the-place-i-dont-belong-ep
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Everlasting Flare

It’s getting dark, every time I look around of here, 
No one seems to care for any more, 
I can only feel this slice of light, 

I don’t really like to be,
In this age of loneliness no one seems to care, 
Hey now, I don’t know where I have to go, 
I can’t find my friends.. 

So, let it be. I light up for my last smoke here, 
Looking all the people come and go,
So many dreams come crossing here, 
You just called me… and said. 

“How do you feel this loneliness you’ve been waiting for”

Hey now, I don’t know what I have to say, 
The answer is not here.. 
I know I think I will leave for now, 

Let me come and go, into the place I feel, 
I am just only one, feel like from this out of space, 
I really love to hate building all these walls, 
It’s funny how I feel, after all, I need you know, 
Please come and save me now. 

I don't know where I have to go,
My last smoke is burning like a flare,
You just called me, but, no answer here, 
I know, I think I will leave for now...

Please come and save me now, 
Please get me out of  here, 
Out of loneliness, it’s like from this out of space, 
I love to be, under the starry night, 
You the only one..  
so, please come and save me now, 

For everlasting flare…
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written & produced by Lazy Avenue

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- Lazy Avenue

The Place I Don't Belong

Everlasting Flare

Download

Die Liebe

When I'm feeling trapped inside my expensive cardboard box
And I'm feeling prisoner to my wild fears and thoughts
In a world so black and white and nothing in between
I need to immerse myself into a sea of green

Out the door and out on my own
Don't need no fax machines, pagers, or phone
Away from the nonsense and into what's good
I'll be out for awhile I'm going for a walk in the woods

When I'm feeling overwhelmed in a world so full of hurt
Hear the spirits calling me to return to the dirt
Where I feel like a child no matter what my age
Find the key to unlock this self imposed cage

Out the door and out on my own
Don't need no fax machines, pagers, or phone
Away from the nonsense and into what's good
I'll be out for awhile I'm going for a walk in the woods

Walk In The Woods

Laotong (Instrumental Version)

Hope everyone finds someone that gives them butterflies.

BUTTERFLIES

Oh, the sea surges up to the steps,
people turn away from the squall.
Wild the wind carries on through the cracks, in the window pane, or the walls.
And the distant smells of the spring,
seem so far away, February.
On the edges, the growth just begins, barely peeking out, staying small.

Oh, the purple that drips down the garden wall, doesn't feel the rain, or the cold.
Though the cracks in the concrete are widening, it's just containing, ever more.
Like the distant faces without, never welcoming, don't begin.
Always outside and not looking in, never reckoning, not at all.

Mr Jones wont you settle down.
If you wanted to get better you'd of wrote yourself the letter. 
It must contain everything, 
That you've ever thought or felt from the start of this thing. 
Of course, you're just finding this out. 
You really should of known and had this all figured out by now.
You see, you just can't be helped, 
won't even take advice as we dish it out.

Mr Jones we're trying to help you out.
If you'd just ignore our mistakes and stop pointing them out. 
You'd see that you're really caught in our trap.
Cause we can't offer you help until you've sorted it out yourself.
This is the cheapest way,
for us to think weve made the slightest difference today.
Whilst doing practically nothing.
To be honest we wouldn't know where to begin.

Oh, the caption reserved for the photograph, doesn't try to tell, truth at all.
Like the face and the clothes that belong to me, all I'll ever be, for yourself.
Like a trinket that once held a memory, a forgotten thing, a miss step. 
Or a plant that emerges a week early, in the frosty breeze, fading health.









The Outsider

A song about being too set in your ways

LYRICS:

We came up the long way
Despite all the foreplay
It took us a whole day and night to perform
You did it your own way
Well, that's what the books say
The script of your old play lays tattered and torn

You live a life of analogue
In digital form
An order from a catalogue
unwrapped and unworn

Dustproof, hermetically sealed
With magnetic appeal
Apoplectic, we feel all your rage
Locked up in storage
Bad mannered and boorish
Your habit's too moreish to start acting your age

You live a life of analogue
In digital form
An order from a catalogue
unwrapped and unworn

You live a life of analogue
In digital form
An order from a catalogue
unwrapped and unworn

Analogue

Coming soon! We pretend to be fine.
There's a fire in the wastelands. What's mine?
Waste of time.
There's a fire.
We Survive.

There's a crack in the side of the farm.
You would think that they'd run, but they stay.
Waste the light.
Avoid the night.
Stay alive. 

There's a river that's flowing with gold.
That you get, when you're good, if you're old.
Waste of life.
Taste the Night.
Stoke the fire.

All of her maybes, mistaken for definitelys.
All you can do is move on.
All of your sure things, replaced now with possiblys.
You've got no crutch to lean on.

All of his don't knows, revealed to be so lows 
That you didn't see where they came from.
All of the can does, are hollow lists of to does.
Interstellar. Toodle-oo. Now I'm gone.

There's a message we sent to the sky.
Imagine that won't be getting too far.
Trip the wire.
To the stars.
To the stars.

There's a man on the moon, and he's heating a Spoon.
As he looks sadly down on the earth.
There's a cow.
What's that now?
Holy cow.

Wee Willie runs through the town.
Crying loud as he seeks them all out.
Get to bed.
In your head.
Go to bed.

All you've got left are some rust, cans of peaches.
A pile of old vizzes and porn.
A fray bentos pie and your rosy complexion.
There's no one left you rely on. 

A bust of Beethoven, a packet of suet.
A commemorative plate, a Princess Di coin.
An overfilled ashtray, a battered red jumper.
Interstellar. Toodle-oo. Now I'm gone.

All of her maybes, mistaken for definitelys.
All you can do is move on.
All of your sure things, replaced now with possiblys.
You've got no crutch to lean on.

All of his don't knows, revealed to be so lows 
That you didn't see where they came from.
All of the can does, are hollow lists of to does.
Interstellar. Toodle-oo. Now I'm gone.

Interstellar... Toodle-oo

Some Kind of Departure

Born to Win?

We are the music makers. We are the dreamers of dreams.





The Outsider

SpukSchreibMaschine