This is Pancake Tuesday. Greville and the Tombstones doesn't do Pancake Tuesday. This is a new track.
Inspired by the idea of Britpop - that attempt to create a way to transmit a feeling from matter-of-fact life for others to associate. Added to this is a slight stream of conscious method to provide an element of the "woozy". Finally put through the alt-gothic filter of Greville and the Tombstones.
The success of it is perhaps as intermittent as a radio receiving a broadcast from another era during a storm.
This is.... Life flashes into rolling death
Rich lit ‘noons would stretch out like stick chewing gum.
Tempers calm as the pond.
Life had scented skin of verve and was effortless in sinew.
As you were.
Remember before the church roof burned down?
Me neither.
And they nailed up a cross using burnt beams.
Dune bugs longed for carefree acoustic coffee hang outs.
Experiments found bounds.
Threat of bad weather was no threat at all to the hip kids.
As you were.
Remember our gravest deep and meaningful?
Me neither.
You arrived out of Texas looking like you'd just had sex.
Bitter spiced smoke of wood fires along quiet streets.
Streets we knew the kerbs.
Laid paths by stories make for far stranger encounters.
As you were.
Remember they found the body in the city reservoir?
Me neither.
The company said tap water was probably safe to drink.
Occasional cars slowed, allowing bees to weave safely.
Nature took its course.
Baritone sprung grandfather clocks caught sun slithers.
As you were.
Remember when storm wind couldn’t blow us over?
Me neither.
And now the black swinging gate is all I can hear.
Throw away lines floated out in a scrap paper gloom
Felt the eye of lost twilight
And you really liked me. Velvet soft, red lipped sunset.
As you were.
Life, equally with purpose and for no reason.
We would lie back wasting, just to listen to death rolling.
We thought there must be a universal truth,
Because no one stayed long enough to witness everything fade
and wash off.
Cantatas cracked lines in the bone china, contents seeping.
Surface tinged pink.
Tree roots cracked the surface, amber words poured to be held.
As you were.
Remember how often we’d offer our goodbyes?
Me neither.
You wrote down: “I’m a bit of a dick, but who isn’t?”
in indelible ink.
There was a stone set by the garden, I never had seen it.
There’s many deaths to die.
I saw you laid in a lining of white silk,
you looked all to be as you were.
Remember what happens to us afterwards?
Me neither.
Although I’ve got all points of reference to hand.
I blink. Sometimes I do remember what it maybe was like.
Patched imaginings recollected.
Remember flashing smiles and saying things were OK and mean it?
As you were.
