Released 2022

All words and music written by Andy Doran

Baldur’s Ship

I left my keys in the back of the hearse. Now I’m locked out of the universe. Your culminating trip. Carrying the lights of Baldur’s ship. All my markers – out of sight, so will you be my guiding light? All my waypoints – out of sight, so will you be my satellite tonight? Glasses have lost their rosiness. I lost my love of loneliness. You’ve taken a different track. Nothing I can say will bring you back. All my markers – out of sight, so will you be my guiding light? All my waypoints – out of sight, so will you be my satellite tonight? The sights and sounds are behind a wall. My senses just do not work at all. Except from this everlasting love. I’ll find you up there in the stars above.

Cellophane Mask

She walks a lonely road. Drifting through the random postal codes. The laughter hides the pain. Embalmed beneath a mask of cellophane. Well alright alright. A little free lucidity and the lights will shine. Into the darkness of her mind. Sometimes the words alight. Hibernating embers in her mind. Sleepy molecules of pain, drifting through her idle veins. Hides behind a mask of cellophane. Well alright alright. A little free lucidity and the lights will shine. Into the darkness of her mind. A little free lucidity and the lights will shine. Into the darkness of her mind

Let This Monkey Go

Some monkey try and make your world so complicated. Some monkey leave while you carry his heavy load. Some monkey tells you that your life is over-rated. Shouting at the cars while he’s lying in the road. Let this monkey go. Some monkey paints an eerie picture of your future. Some monkey yells and throws the canvas on the floor. Some monkey lives to smash your face into the mirror. The monkey laughs while he’s walking out the door. And after all those things I saw, I just never want to get that low. And now my only words of wisdom are, well you’ve got to let this monkey go. I climbed the winding path up a rainy mountain. The monkey followed me and said this is the end. Jump off the edge cos you’ve nothing left to live for. I grabbed his tail and said after you my friend.

Bionic

I see the flowers try and lift the room, but the overwhelming gloom tells me I should sit down and deliver nothing. Look at these old pictures on the wall, happy days them all and the bottle was that last nail in the coffin. It’s a rainy day and everyone’s in black. But once the wake is over, we’ll be back, armed with spades and sacks, burying our tracks, digging up the past. Yeah – we’re piecing you back together. Yeah yeah – we’re taking out the carbonite. With these new parts, you’ll last forever and ever. Yeah yeah we’re bringing you back to life. People talk about the words you said. And the letters that I read. And words are the things that last forever. And of course the pictures on the wall, they don’t convey it at all. That natural smile – yeah whatever!

Silent Cavities

Condemnation, such an ugly thing. Never here when he’s with you. But when he watches as you’re closing the door, the finger’s on the trigger, I don’t know what he’s going to do. Imagination, such a deadly thing. The mind can wander out of view. And when he thinks about the shrinking room, the finger’s on the trigger, I don’t know what he’s going to do. Empty spaces, silent cavities. An empty chair still faces you. He closed the book before you got to the end. You’re looking in the mirror and you don’t know what you’re going to do. Imagination, such a deadly thing. The mind can wander out of view. And when he thinks about the shrinking room, the fingers on the trigger, I don’t know what he’s going to do.

Waste of Time

Little drops of bitterish hops and then the heart begins to sing. They sing a song of bitterness and venom. Respect the victim and those tears of the crocodile. Afraid I’m done, with these social butterflies. It’s such a waste of time. Why am I here contemplating, thrusting spikes in my eyes. Oh Lord I’ve reached the end of the line. Look at me, look at me, look at me, I’m a labelled up to here. Vertigo, Indian Tobacco and every other fear. They looked down on me today like a dirty old ashtray. I walk on slowly looking the other way – hey!

Carillon

Nothingness and motionless. Well this just may be the twist at the end of the play. Ring the bell for John Dubya Wells. The magic hour is close to the end of the day. Oh you’ve drifted far away. Carillon rings out the song. A sing singalong, to carry you on your way. A bloody mess, I wouldn’t expect any less from the alchemist and his messed up sorceress.

The Great Collapsing Circus

Well there’s a man on the news, looking dazed and confused, in a scene of massive destruction. It doesn’t strike any chords as you turn to channel 3. As someone switches it back you prepare to attack and issue some kind of ultimatum. Now we’re engaged in a war of attrition now. Do you believe all that you see? Another TV lecture tells me that we all should look to America. Another circus passes through my lonely little town. Now did you see it happen today? Now did it really happen this way? As this conspiracy gains some momentum and grows, it soon becomes that new sensation. And then before you can blink it’s in a textbook in the school. Pass it on – the war is over, pass it on – the papers said, pass it on – the war is back again, pass it on – the queen is dead.

Wake and Scream

How can I be certain what to say, when purity has been hidden underneath the woken veil? How should I ask nicely in this world, when naivety is a ghastly sin – a relic from another world. If you won’t even let me ask you why, when I’ve listened to you preachify, get out of here – just disappear and cry. If you won’t even let me call your name, when I’m staring at your hall of fame, get out of here – just disappear – goodbye. Little by little you’re grinding me right down. Obscurity is questioning my question with the question of a clown. But if you want to be somebody else’s dream, then go ahead and be loved, till they wake and scream.

Liverpool

Nearly 2am in Liverpool and I’ve been ripping out my heart for you. Laid it out for all to see, there’s no skeletons, no mystery. Oh they’ve gone, all these looker-ons. All my life I’ve looked away. I only came here for the shadowplay. But there comes a time when you break the mould. Do you what your heart says and not what you’re told. Oh they’ve gone, all these looker-ons. What if this was meant to be and I survived? Did I take the right pathway for one day in my life? What if I had sailed away in a ship of fools? What a difference a day made, the day we got lost in Liverpool. I confess, I’m skeletonless.