1. |
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Spend a little time
Facing 'cross the fields
Just facing 'cross
Doesn't need a sign
Time is so surreal
Just facing 'cross
Something in my head Meditative, not quite lost
Spend a little breath
Exhale with the wind
Just sighed away
Coming over west
Fading like a dream
Long gone
Something in my head
Indefinite, not quite lost
And I could lose my mind
Just about all of the time
Simultaneously
Stitched around the countryside
Patchwork fields have got something to hide
Distant memory
Spend a little prose
Winter's pentameter
Abating
'Nother chapter close
Circle's parameters
Anticipates change
Something in my head
Collected, not quite lost
And I could lose my mind
Just about all of the time
Simultaneously
Stitched around the countryside
Patchwork fields have got something to hide
Distant memory
And I could lose my mind
Just about all of the time
Simultaneously
Stitched around the countryside
Patchwork fields have got something to hide
Distant memory
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2. |
Dreaming & Petty Crime
04:46
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Gotta get away from this place
But its kinda hard when the bus only comes once a day
On gets a parade of tartan-clad elderly people
All off to do their weekly shopping in Yeovil
Until a few months ago the bus would rattle off down the track
But nowhere on the timetable did it say there was one coming back
I imagine the grandmas and grandpas with only their tartan to battle the cold
And the nightlife of Yeovil descending like eagles upon their frail souls
And there's no wonder we turned
To drugs and to drinking
As quickly as we did
You do too much thinking
When all of your best friends
Are pensioners and dead ends
Whoa
It's no wonder we raised
A lifetime of Sundays
Of early school buses
And kicking through gutters
When all of your pastimes
Are dreaming and petty crime
And the weekdays pass like clouds
And the trees turn green to brown
Won't the wind carry me out?
Carry me out...
Gonna move away and start over somewhere else
Put as much distance as I can between me and this open cell
This blanket of cascading fields has kept me asleep for my formative years
And now I'm awake but I still just see sheep and the pub's only open for three days a week
And there's no wonder we turned
To drugs and to drinking
As quickly as we did
You do too much thinking
When all of your best friends
Are pensioners and dead ends
Whoa
It's no wonder we raised
A lifetime of Sundays
Of early school buses
And kicking through gutters
When all of your pastimes
Are dreaming and petty crime
And the weekdays pass like clouds
And the trees turn green to brown
Won't the wind carry me out?
Come and take me from the ground
Show me more than fields and towns
Won't the wind carry me out?
Carry me out...
Carry me out
Carry me out
Carry me out
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3. |
The Field
06:47
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Mrs Johnson is walking her dog round the field
It's a little wirehaired terrier that she's had for years
You'd be forgiven for believing the dog's older than she is
Where will they go
When it's all gone?
Mr Davis has his binoculars out again
Something in the hedge, maybe a goldfinch or a wren
He takes out the same brown notebook, and scribbles in the same black pen
Where will he go
When it's all gone?
Where do we go
When the villages sink by the crooks of their linked elbows?
When the housing estates stretch beyond the floodgates we broke?
When the M25 is just another city road?
There is a squirrel that lives in that old beech tree
It gathers berries and steal most of our birdseed
It make its round of errands, then scampers back to the field
Where will it go
When it's all gone
Where do we go
When the villages sink by the crooks of their linked elbows?
When the housing estates stretch beyond the floodgates we broke?
When the M25 is just another city road?
Just another city road
Where do we go
When the villages sink by the crooks of their linked elbows?
Where do we go
When the housing estates stretch beyond the floodgates we broke?
Where do we go
When the M25 is just another city road?
Just another city roadJust another city road
Just another city roadJust another city road
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4. |
The Red Grasses
04:29
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What do we see in Springtime?
Why do cheer the blossoms on?
Why the collective blind eye
to what arrives, but just as soon's gone?
Why is the view in sections?
Why do the hedges block each field?
When did we carve such sculptures
and to what end does this pleasant land yield?
Everyone knows the secret
Everyone helps to keep it
Everyone knows the secret
Everyone helps to keep it
Long as you know the secret
There's no escaping from those
Painted green pastures
that mask the red grasses
When will the minds of the masses
finally reject all these lies?
When will the trucks of cattle and sheep
be finally freed, and set to the skies?
Everyone knows the secret
Everyone helps to keep it
Everyone knows the secret
Everyone helps to keep it
Long as you know the secret
There's no escaping from those
Painted green pastures
that mask the red grasses
And one day our country
Will be unchained
And one day the fields
Will be swept away
And one day our conscience
Will be bright as the buds of May
But until that day, until that day...
Everyone knows the secret
Everyone helps to keep it
Everyone knows the secret
Everyone helps to keep it
Long as you know the secret
There's no escaping from those
Painted green pastures
that mask the red grasses
Those painted green pastures
That mask the red grasses
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5. |
Where Do They Go?
03:46
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Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
There's a green belt around us
It holds more than our cities
It holds the illusion
We don't have more than we need
We can hold misconception
Hug our hands to our knees
But the mirror is breaking
We don't want to be seen
There's a world at our window
There's a secret we all know
That the viewpoints of our lives
Are destructively narrow
And the hand that keeps spinning
Casts a century shadow
And the things that we outgrow
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
There is change all around us
There is change in the trees
There is change in the fields
There is change in between
There is change in the landscape
There is change in the sea
It is something no one can escape
We must accept to be free
There's a world at our window (There's a world at our window)
There's a secret we all know (There's a secret we all know)
That the viewpoints of our lives (That the viewpoints of our lives)
Are destructively narrow (Are destructively narrow)
And the hand that keeps spinning
Casts a century shadow
And the things that we outgrow
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
Where do they go?
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Jonah Corren Bridport, UK
Hailing from West Dorset, Jonah Corren is a singer-songwriter and poet, writing on themes such as the passage of time, growing up, and ideas of home. Jonah's music focuses keenly on lyrics, with inspiration taken from artists such as Joni Mitchell and Lucy Dacus, with the end product landing somewhere between Nick Drake and Nick Mulvey. ... more
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