The birds & the stone

by Elliot Poe

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released January 2, 2017

Letras y música.
grabación, mezcla y master,
diseño y maquetación,
a lo largo de 2016:
Rafa de la Rubia




Elliot Poe Spain

(de jazz/rock/blues de 5 miembros)
DE UN SOLO (multidisciplinar y mentalmente sano)

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Track Name: Baby's waltz
Times ain´t timeless in God´s old town, Baby´s kingdom dims down and frowns. Autumn´s arriving, put trees on hold, watch the yard from the couch. A big old fat fish in a drying pond, she´s just another of stories too told, dressed up in hairstyle and sleeping gown she don´t shine anymore. Poor little baby won´t stand it, por baby wants too be seen. Once had commandments, would travel, now just some beautiless queen. Bring back the gallows, the whip and the knife. Bathe me in milkblood and strighten my lines. Open the waters and bark off the dogs and keep timeless the times. Tame down the horses, the cradle and all, fill up my suitcase of silver and gold. Questions are pointless, but answers bring light to this old heart of stone. Poor little baby will raise now, por baby’s fists’ll shake the leaf, waltzes and diamonds will shine now, no more the beautiless queen. Beautiful queen in her card-castle stood, stubborn and proud of her own clever moves, but neighbours with torches burned down to the roots baby’s dream-castle of fools.
Track Name: The birds & the stone
Running back-pushed, feeling leg-pulled, but still hopeful to be gone. Midnight’s stench going up the back, morning seems so far from home. Every window makes an exit when all the doors are closed. Horses gallop thru the obvious till the wind gets overblown. Man gets single-handed furious ‘round the edges of a rose. And they’re trying overwhelmly to kill the birds and keep the stone. And the brainstorm gets to pass… Tunnels keep on getting warmer, after all, the cold is gone, ain’t it, baby? Mr. Underhill bends over when the servant meets the lord, but ain’t no sunshine till they get to keep the birds and kill the stone.
Track Name: World weather report
A smelly cloud of acid rain has fallen all around, and some dancers don’t mind getting soaking wet; it’s the faithless and the greedy breaking down communications, while believers keep laying restless on their beds. A white-faced devil under crimson horns wearing leather and frustration smiles at the riots on a wall of televisions, and travels through the dreams of the sleepless while the dancers exhale the lies we’ll eat today. And History goes back and forth again… A muddy flood of dirt and rage spreads as fast as the rumours of History repeating itself again, meanwhile a crowd is singing songs about lost wars and revolutions, and using weapons hid inside a pen. The devil laughs aloud and whispers hard upon the ears of drunk deluded men who place the blame upon believers on the streets, willing to close their eyes, as the faithless and the greedy skip the mess. And History goes back and forth again… A stone-cold wall of hurricanes is hitting hard the greedy belt, reality beats again imagination. The cowards shit their pants and claim for careles retribution, leaving all around a heavy stink of violation, and History goes back and forth again…
Track Name: Annie
She tells her secrets to the clouds and asks the rainbows for advice, but Annie sobs and screams and cries when the rain comes pouring down. My love lies like the sweetest breeze, and kisses like a hurricane, but when the lies give her away, all that she can do is bleed. My moaning Annie,… My Annie lives out here and there, and sleeps on anybody’s bed, then disappears between the sheets, she loves as fast as she forgets. By morning Annie wasn’t there, leaving not pleasure but regret, no lying song in my ears, not at all, anywhere. Oh no, don’t go wrap your heart in hatred and despair, I love what/who you are.
Track Name: Rush through the door
One two three men looking at me from the back of the bedroom door, they scootch the chair and circle the square till the peaceless open up the store. They won’t be kidding me, they won’t be kidding you. Back off babe, they don’t mean welfare, and they might be making you their whore, better rush through the door. Wish and hoping, romping and stomping, every door is a spark for war, a cheek’s caress and you’ll be getting undressed and be letting every boat off-shore. They won’t be kidding me, but they might be kidding you. Stop the mil even under goodwill, and walk barefeet the low-lands moor, just rush through the door. Now the righteous seem to vanish, and fuck off, simply put. The red-eyed go, caress their cheek and hold up all the strings to pull. Yep, go, pull the strings… And they string guitars with malice and play them hard to you. And they might be showing their saint-air grin but still be giving you THAT look. One two three men looking at me from beyond the old stage floor, they clap their hands at time and stare, as expecting me to dance their pole. They won’t be kidding me, they won’t be kidding you. Maybe did they know or maybe unaware they might still be getting you off-shore. Just rush through the door.
Track Name: The only thing
You’re a black wine when I’m sober, the dirty thief/the owner, sarcastic/blue, the only thing that I don’t need is you. You’re the busy line when I’m calling, branch that breaks/falling, solid fence/stuck here, young actress/old queer. You had a starring role when I walked out of the way, you’re the fear in my bones when I’ve run out of nails, you’re a filthy liar when you know I need truth, the only thing that I don’t need is you. You’re the hard wind when my hat’s askew, hammering hand/screw, missing page at the end of my book, toxic corch in my bottle of booze, only one/need at least two, heavy rain through the hole in my shoe, you keep pulling my leg when I’m rooting for you, the only thing that I don’t need is you.
Track Name: Underpaid
I can’t help, I can’t help driving wildly through this stupid hell, stupid hell, stupid hell, fires burning piercing heaven’s bell. God keeps rising up her skirt and the church keeps peeking up the dirt, while the White-faced devil still soaks up his bed, and no one knows which way we should go next underpaid. In this town, this big dark town, huge Wheel trucks keep travelling all around, waking up, constantly waking up sleepless neighbours beg for wooden gowns. The deaf keep dancing to their favourite tune and the blind keep watching their favourite view, while birds keep dodging stones like fools, and no wise man knows how far we should go next underpaid
Track Name: The unworlded
The sun’s wake up call strikes my face through a hole into my empty tent, ‘cause though here is where my body lays, my head’s somewhere else instead, in a place I remember packed but cold, in some arms I couldn’t feel as home, in some sea that wouldn’t soak me wet, in some church that wouldn’t reach my soul, ‘cause it’s here, with the unworlded and the spared where I feel home. This land I used to think so far away has no webs, no wires, no links, has no light but the moon and stars at night, has no jewels, no crowns, no kings. And I may not be a millionaire, and my friends may wear no gold, but our dreams get fulfilled within the day, and that can’t be broken down or sold, ‘cause it’s here, with the unworlded and the spared, it’s here where I feel home. Here's a toast for the clouds above our heads, and here’s to the ground below our feet, because that’s what we only surely have, and in that’s in what we can believe; so raise your glasses high my friends, and drink up for the coming days, ‘cause it’s here, with the unworlded and the spared, where home will be until we *)(/? ‘cause it’s here, it’s here, with the unworlded and the spared, it’s here where I feel home