loving this foot tapping vibe Alain!!! :))

The lyrics and vocals flow very smoothly, great work!

diggin the guitars on this arrangement - the melodyline and vocals are great my friend - great work!

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

Peaceful Days

"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)

Super Magic

Your cloud a song relating to a relationship that’s finished but photos float on a cloud forever and can be retrieved at anytime to reminisce.

Your Cloud ~ Conscience Of Kings

Campers  

My parents were campers, we wandered around
We washed in the river and slept on the ground
With a kerosine lantern to see by at night 
And aluminum cups full of Crystal Delight

They’re all gone forever after only awhile
To me it was not about nothing
It was more than a signature style

I gave him a hundred, which was all that I got
I fired her up and I drove off the lot
She was painted by hand, but tipping the scales
Was a sticker that showed my concern for the whales

She’s all gone forever after only awhile
To me she was not about nothing
She was more than a signature style

My mind is in order my soul is inspired
In robe and in sandals I’m simply attired
And I live in this place with these brothers of mine
Where we think, and we pray, and we fast all the time

Till we’re all gone forever after only awhile
To me it is not about nothing
It’s more than a signature style

Copyright Scott Culver Thomson

Campers

Sometimes, Somethings, Somehow - Harmful if Followed with Carkiss and Dorian Elsewhere

Orion's Belt

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

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

Sweet dreams.  (dual vocal mix)

2 ème remix du titre original Morning Râga: la face cachée du rêve de Titalee par The FURICO Music Team.
🙏

https://furicomusicteam.blogspot.com/p/morning-raga-la-face-cachee-du-reve.html

La face cachée du rêve/ Remix 2 FURICO Music team

Texte Français et Google traduction

TANT DE TANT
Tant de distance, de kilomètres,
Et cette absence qui prend la tête !
Se voir au loin, s’imaginer,
Et n’être enfin que séparé.

Tant de désirs gardés en soi,
Même si l’av’nir nous les donn’ra !
Il faut chasser tous ces démons
Qui font douter au plus profond.

Tant de souffrances à l’intérieur,
De coups de lance perçant le cœur !
Et plus il saigne à rendre vie,
Moins ne s’éteignent les voeux d’envie.

Tant de temps, de temps perdu,
Sans pour autant on s aime plus !
On se fait signe et on s’appelle,
Par quelques lignes que l’on veut belles.

Tant de ces manques marqués de vide
Que l’on se planque sans être lucide,
Et qui reviennent à chaque instant,
Remuer la peine dans nos dedans.

Tant de coupures pour notre amour,
Et de blessures plus chaque jour,
Qu’il faut panser à l’eau d’espoir,
Cicatriser pour mieux se voir.

Tant de larmes dans nos yeux,
Comme des flammes qui donnent le feu,
S’en vont mourir le long des joues,
Pour mieux se dire…. et bientôt nous.

Tant de temps, de temps perdu,
Sans pour autant on s aime plus !
On se fait signe et on s’appelle,
Par quelques lignes que l’on veut belles.

SO MANY
So much distance, kilometers,
And this absence which takes the lead!
See yourself in the distance, imagine yourself,
And finally to be separated.

So many desires kept in oneself,
Even if the future will give them to us!
We must cast out all these demons
Which cause deep doubts.

So much suffering inside,
Heart-piercing spear shots!
And the more it bleeds to bring life,
Fewer wishes of envy go out.

So much time, wasted time,
Without, however, we love each other more!
We wave and call each other,
By a few lines that we want to be beautiful.

So many of these void-marked gaps
That we hide without being lucid,
And who keep coming back every moment,
Stir the pain in our hearts.

So many cuts for our love,
And more injuries every day
That we must heal with the water of hope,
Healing to see yourself better.

So many tears in our eyes,
Like flames that give fire,
Will die down the cheeks,
To better say…. and soon us.

So much time, wasted time,
Without, however, we love each other more!
We wave and call each other,
By a few lines that we want to be beautiful.

TANT DE TANT

TANT DE TANT (La distance en amour)

Chansons Françaises écrites, composées, arrangées et enregistrées à la maison.
Elles sont toutefois déposées à la SACEM.

TANT DE TANT (La distance en amour)

Alain GUERIN

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