With the Lights Down

Softly we fell
© Michelle Lerner 2021

softly we fell
like two feathers on the wind
and it wasn’t until
we were almost at the end
that I first saw the ground, saw the ground

I reached out for you
as we saw it coming near
but you were too far away
so I couldn’t be there
though I tried, how I tried

and it’s not what I wanted to do
to say goodbye
so far away from you, from you

our voices carried on
disembodied in the air
and we talked every day
til we couldn’t tell where
we were, where we were

the last time
that I heard you
you could barely make a sound
and I told you to sleep
and you said that we’d speak again
before you’d go, before you’d go

and I don’t know what to do
falling faster now without you
without you

and it’s not what I wanted to do
to say goodbye
so far away from you, from you

softly we fell
like two feathers on the wind
and it wasn’t until
we were almost at the end
that I first saw the ground, saw the ground

Softly We Fell

Honey

Warming up my fingers and co-ordinating my hands. No thought. No reason, just playing up and down the keyboard. Still very agile. No arthritis. At this point in my life I couldn't ask for more.

Tinkering On The Keys #1

When we've ruined the earth, we'll all become refugees. Will Mars welcome us?

Mars
When we’ve polluted the skies and cut down the trees
Replaced them with skyscrapers and factories
And even they disappeared under the rising seas
We’ll get in our rockets to hurry out of here

With the last of the fuel that destroyed our planet
Food and drinks that may last if we don’t get stuck in traffic
Months later, when supplies are running low
As our ship approaches we find that there’s life on Mars

That’s when we start to wonder… 
Will they give us a chance to explain that we come in peace
That we can adapt to their culture
To show that we’re able and willing to work for food
That we had nowhere else to go
Will they even care?

They’ll refuse to let us in because we’re not like them
They'll only accept the few with a good education
They’ll push our ships back into space,        
With no water, no bread and no fuel, no chance of survival
I hope they’re not like us…

Written and recorded by Marcel van Leeuwen

Image based on a picture from: https://pixabay.com/users/mohamed_hassan-5229782/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=6130744

Mars

Back In Bed

This is a simple acoustic song that I wrote some months ago. I hope you like it, I do ;)

Just A Line Or 3

A few weeks ago, our pianist Gene Poole-Skimmings suffered an unfortunate accident when the keyboard cover fell on his fingers, causing them to swell up. It is taking a long time for the swelling to go down and we have been unable to continue our world tour. The consequent loss in earnings has compelled me to look for employment. Luckily, with the labor market being so tight at the moment, many employers have relaxed their requirements and I was able to land a job with the climate change denial department of the Americans for Prosperity think tank. Actually, having had a few days to get to know my fellow "scientists" at the Foundation, I'm not convinced that accepting me on the basis that I scraped a pass in O Level physics constitutes much of a relaxation of the requirements for employment there. I might be over-qualified. Anyway, manipulating data for nefarious purposes is not hard, a lot less demanding than actual science, and I have a lot of time left over for writing songs. Like this one.

Climate Change Denier

The romantic travails of our lead guitarist, Dee Sharpe, have been well documented elsewhere, particularly in the smash hit "I Never Took Your Number Off My Phone," and I wish that I were able to inform you that this noble and sensitive heart, so recently and cruelly broken by Moira, barmaid at the Ship Inn and Belle of Broughty Ferry, was on the mend. Alas, no.

These days, Dee spends most of his time in bed, showing no interest in anything much. He can hardly go round to the Ship Inn to drown his sorrows, and frankly, between you and me and in strictest confidence, it's just as well he doesn't because, if he did, he would be witness to the unsavoury spectacle of his bandmate and all-round scumbag, Gene Poole-Skimmings pitching woo to his erstwhile sweetheart. Not that Moira is having any of it, mind you - Gene Poole-Skimmings is, by near-unanimous acclamation the most loathsome creature ever to importune a barmaid who is trying to work, but the sight of him leering at her over the bar and ordering top shelf whiskies he can't afford just to try to peep up her skirt when she reaches for them would be more than a sensitive soul could bear.

Of course, we all feel sorry for Dee, but some of the band are beginning to lose patience. We can't play without him, and work on our upcoming album has ground to a halt. I caught bassist Juan Tusrivor checking Kayak for flights home to Peru and our alto sax player, Aldo Sachs, has taken to busking in areas of Dundee that are unsafe for saxophonists who are under four feet tall, frequently returning with a black eye dispensed by burlier buskers accusing him of trying to muscle in on their territory. Clearly something had to be done, and I called a meeting of the band, minus Dee and Gene, who was in the Ship Inn, as usual. After a few moments of discussion, we came up with a plan.

Phase one of the plan has gone smoothly. Some slick detective work on my part determined that Moira has a boyfriend called Dave who is a foot taller than Gene with muscles developed to terrifying proportions by years of strenuous work on the oil rigs of the North Sea, from which he recently returned. A quick word in his ear with a request to spare Gene's fingers (he may be a cad, but he's the only keyboard player we can persuade to play in the band) took care of that part of the problem. Phase two consisted of playing this song to Dee to shake him out of his depression. It seems to have worked, because he roused himself, took his first shower in two weeks and joined us for the recording. I'd like to think it was the song that did it, but I'm pretty sure it was the sight of Gene's haphazardly rearranged facial features that put the old magic back in his fingers. I wouldn't say that he has fully recovered, but he is doing better than Gene.

Mars

marsgrader

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