Infinite Squalor

Infinite squalor is ushered in,
Like the changing of the seasons,
A natural thing.
Aren't you the clever ones,
Now you have purchase,
To buy up medallions,
And hang them in earnest.

"But how can you blames us? What's to be done?!"
So easy to fuck, so hard to make come.

The lust for labour,
And conspicuous consumption,
Such curious behaviour,
This democratic serfdom.
If you've faith in the system,
Shore up the machine.
Await your end, in mid daydream.


"But how can you blames us? What's to be done?!"
So easy to fuck, so hard to make come.

All shut away now, and tripled locked
With your private libraries,
In your mortgaged box.
The final nail, in this coffin,
Has firmly come, from within.


"But how can you blames us? What's to be done?!"
So easy to fuck, so hard to make come.

Infinite squalor is ushered in,
Like the changing of the seasons,
A natural thing.

We'll Go Dancing

Brain's been in a fug the last couple of days, but after the regular chores of an evening last night, I managed to set my mind to finishing off this song about dancing with one's beloved. Think Piaf talking in the verses, and then a dreamy 3/4 whisks you away on the chorus. Taking in the glory of spring that is upon us at present, and a stock misanthropic theme, I bring you..."We'll Go Dancing".

We'll Go Dancing

I search this ugly town, for things that do not spark a frown.
Up treeless avenues, down barren streets that hold no clues.
But round the corner in the park, I find the backdrop to my heart.
Take my hand if you please, beneath blossoming cherry trees...

And we'll go dancing, through the rush-hour malaise,
Desperately advancing, in their separate ways.
And you'll look enchanting, either making or breaking,
What would otherwise have been,
Yet another uniquely dreary, forgettable day.

The insipid urban sprawl, and the ideas behind it all,
Are enough to take your breath away, but never in the same way,
As you do my love, come closer my love.
Click hard your heels on the floor, smash all that The Others adore.
We have momentum and flow, like a petal of Spring snow...

We'll go dancing, through the rush-hour malaise,
Desperately advancing, in their separate ways.
And you'll look enchanting, either making or breaking,
What would otherwise have been,
Yet another uniquely dreary, forgettable day.

Despite the heaven that we hold, you are embarrassed by my bold,
Nature to declare, this is more than an affair.
I slow to savour every aspect, you grow impatient with my step.
And as the band are winding-up, you skip out leaving me hard-up.
I'm left alone now with my thoughts, on this imaginary waltz...

We'll go dancing, through the rush-hour malaise,
Desperately advancing, in their separate ways.
And you'll look enchanting, either making or breaking,
What would otherwise have been, and consequently was,
Yet another uniquely dreary, forgettable day.

Old Friend

My good friend and musician Rebecca Jade, hosts a songwriting night once a month. The aim of the night is to get the usually stagnant creative juices flowing, by proposing a theme for all participants to write a song about. The last month's chosen theme, picked from a hat, was "old friend". From those two words, I've written the following piece. It's debut performance will be at Folke Newington this Sunday.

Old Friend

So long old friend. I've buried you, as you did me. I've got myself back finally.
So long old friend. You may go now, to where your mind, has been all the time.
So long old friend.

I may seem a little bitter, under this sentimental glitter,
But I must protest, I feel a lot less.
As I get longer in the tooth, thanks to the tumult of youth,
It gets harder each year, to part with a single tear...

So long old friend. I've buried you, as you did me. I've got myself back finally.
So long old friend. You may go now, to where your mind, has been all the time.
So long old friend.

All these trivial teenage trials, and tribulations aside,
The lack of a will, undermines the way.
As I get longer in the tooth, thanks to the tumult of youth,
It gets harder each year, to part with a single tear...

So long old friend. I've buried you, as you did me. I've got myself back finally.
So long old friend. You may go now, to where your mind, has been all the time.
So long old friend.

Must We Be Bound?

I present a new song I wrote over Christmas, but finalised last night. It's debut performance will be at Folke Newington this Sunday, March 13th, 2011, doors at 8pm, free entry.

Must We Be Bound

Must we be bound?
From now until the time agreed we lay our promise down,
All efforts to break free will be crushed into the ground,
Must we be bound?
We must be bound.

We may be silly little fools, that think they know it all,
But tell me, when will that cease to be, the essence of mortality?
With no god in which to trust, mine is with yours be as it must,
So fast your hand to mine, it's the blind leading the blind.

Must we be bound?
From now until the time agreed we lay our promise down,
All efforts to break free will be crushed into the ground,
Must we be bound?
We must be bound.

No document is needed or any caution heeded,
When time and money are pissed away on endless nights of debauchery.
And a hangover is the only thing, I've a chance of being intimate with.
Well here's my lot I throw it in, and take what may come on the chin.

Must we be bound?
From now until the time agreed we lay our promise down,
All efforts to break free will be crushed into the ground,
Must we be bound?
Must we be bound?
Must we be bound?
Must we be bound?

Without a shadow of a doubt

Sincerely yours,
Despite the rolling eyes,
That have seen it all before,
And don't wish to see it again,
Well to hell with that and them,
Because I, have finally figured it out...

Without a shadow of a doubt,
Nothing can phase me now,
I even find it hard to imagine how,
I've lived so long, without you on,
My mind. Intervention is divine.
There's nothing I'm more sure about,
Without a shadow of a doubt.

Heathcliffian surly,
Could it be that for her,
I have come too early,
And the paranoid thoughts I foster,
Will expose me as an imposter,
Any minute now, I will be found out

Without a shadow of a doubt,
Nothing can phase me now,
I even find it hard to imagine how,
I've lived so long, without you on,
My mind. Intervention is divine.
There's nothing I'm more sure about,

Without a shadow of a doubt,
Nothing can phase me now,
Save the thought of you running out,
On me, but that can only be,
Confined to morbid fantasy,
There's nothing I'm sure about,
Without a shadow of a doubt.

Written by Marmaduke Dando Hutchings