I agree with Mat,...a wonderful journey, recorded with lovely clarity and constantly evolving rhythms and transitions.

Clown Shopping

A Rose In A Factory

Our version of The Telescopes' Songs Of Love And Revolution, music and lyrics by Stephen Lawrie.

Songs Of Love And Revolution (a metal version)

Available on Spotify:
https://open.spotify.com/album/7ELJfDSS9O5slDeGvDW7sl

Other streaming platforms:
https://emubands.ffm.to/lifeworthliving

Lyrics:

I’ve been chasing dreams around 
but I haven’t found
any reason to go on
all my hope is gone

I’ve cried so hard but it’s no use 
I’ve tried and tried but it’s too hard 
(to make life worth living)

There’s no one in my home 
So I’m going to die alone 
and soon I’ll be gone

I’ve cried so hard but it’s no use 
I’ve tried and tried but it’s too hard 
(to make life worth living)

I throw my hands up, I throw my hands up 
and walk away
I throw my hands up, I throw my hands up 
and walk away
(I gotta I give up)

I don’t want to stay and feel this way 
I’m gonna throw it all away
I can’t stand the pain

I’ve tried so hard but it’s no use 
I’m not going to try anymore 
(to make life worth living)

My body’s just a cage
to keep my soul from running away 
it doesn’t want to stay
so I’m gonna set it free today

My body’s just a cage
to keep my soul from running away 
it doesn’t want to stay
so I’m gonna set it free today

I throw my hands up, I throw my hands up 
and walk away
I throw my hands up, I throw my hands up 
and walk away
I’m gonna give up

Ah-hah, ooh, state your name and business 
Ah-hah, that’s manners
Ah-hah, state your name and business 
Ah-hah, that’s manners
(How do you do, how do you do, how do you do) 
Ah-hah, state your name and business
(How do you do, how do you do, how do you do) 
Ah-hah, that’s manners
(How do you do, how do you do, how do you do) 
Ah-hah, state your name and business
(How do you do, how do you do, how do you do) 
Ah-hah, that’s manners

Life Worth Living

Rush

Still had time to taste some crystals of silence, before the devil began to distort the transparent symmetry.
Hands with arched nails pull up the white raw silk stockings to her knees; she feels a renewed spirit, even though she knows the stockings will eventually come down again.
You can already hear the mud walking outside.
She goes out to buy milk bread at the cafe, when she opens the door of the building; she gives in to the dream the primacy of guiding her, tiptoe over water lilies.
A sting each time a bottle was dropped at the bottom of the recycling bin, she thought of the neighbors who were still sleeping, would they receive messages in their dreams that weren't written on the bottles?
She was reading a book like an actress in rehearsal as she walked down the street in autopilot mode, her knuckles brushing against the fresh morning myths; she was possessed by images in the heavy, noisy air, lines of passion in fragmentation.
People running on the small stone walkway with burning pain in their knees and heels.
He arrives at the cafe, sits down on the terrace where the sun shines, a breath of coffee spreads in the air with mysterious symbols. Under the water mirror of a small lake, roots in the form of clock hands that do not give in to the call of time, clinging to childhood, giant egg in the center of the lake half out of water, has a crack, is full of blood, through the blood a way. In the distance, a rocky slope, dismembered, alienated trees.
Cobalt-blue bodice, pointers tremble little needle screams, shadows in the eyes of the titties, two twin chapels, between them goes the size of your soul, close your eyes and remain static, cathedral of flavors of private cultivation, the pink mouth gives itself naked in the open air a procession courting the skin. Fine silk on which a heart of light is drawn falls from her breasts, with her hands she brushes away things like abracadabra, awakened mystery, creator plush, desert cross, chalice between her legs, soda with bubbles, she plays the organ.
Tights tucked over the head
Horse with a tank top dress pulled over the head
A fishing boat pull rope
Pregnant belly blindfolded
Hair roots
Everything turned upside down
Egg

7-11-2024 translation in description

'Losers Like Me' single from 'The Valley Sessions' album by Mogey & Duffy

Written and recorded by 
Jordan Mogey
Michael Duffy

Vocals: Mogey & Duffy
Recorded at Valley Music Studios, Ballybofey, Co.Donegal, Ireland.

Losers Like Me - Original

Song :  The Deal
Album:  Side B
All right reserved
Copyright ©️ Malcolm Gladwin 
Lyrics: Malcolm Gladwin 
© 2025

Recorded
23-01-2025
M Gladwin / Ez Milton 
Rounded House Studio 


The Deal - Malcolm Gladwin / Ez Milton

My son told me to do a cover of one of the songs I posted a few years back. So I A.I. enhanced my original song and vocals.  It's like hiring a garage band across the street to perform your music.  "How much?" they ask. "One dollar." I say. "It's a deal!"

She’s an Alien
Song and Lyrics by Mike Krath
artwork from hotpot.ai/art-generator
artificially enhanced using SUNO

Verse 1

It’s been over a day,
She doesn’t laugh, she doesn’t play,
She sits still, she looks away,
She transmits to my thoughts, she enslaves my brain. 

Chorus

She’s an alien,
She’s possessed by an alien,
She doesn’t cook, she doesn’t clean,
She’s an alien...from Mars. 

Verse 2
It’s been over a week,
She doesn’t move, she doesn’t blink,
The whole place is starting to stink,
She’s got me on the edge, she’s making me think. 

Chorus

She’s an alien,
She’s possessed by an alien,
She doesn’t cook, she doesn’t clean,
She’s an alien...from Mars. 

Verse 3

It’s been over a year,
She doesn’t stir, she doesn’t hear,
Her skin turned blue and now it’s clear,
She’s never going to do my laundry, she’s never gonna cook my meals. 

Chorus

She’s an alien,
She’s possessed by an alien,
She doesn’t cook, she doesn’t clean,
She’s an alien...from Mars. 

Bridge

But Andromeda
It’s not a strain
To think it’s this
But then again 
It could simply be
Kepler-452b!

She's an Alien From Mars

Out Of The Confusion

original Music/Lyrics/Vocals: Neowakan
Written: 2013
Recorded: 2020

A Rose In A Factory

Vasco Ribeiro Morais - page VII

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