1. |
Her Breton Skin
04:57
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A golden light her silhouette
Her Breton Skin is already wet
It’s been an hour now
Since we woke to the birds
The water falls down her neck
This holy cage of her breath
I fear the words
That it may hold
For it’s not till now have I known such things
Through the foreign lens of another being
And I’m green
In very sense of the word
A stoic queen seen so much that she’s clean
Experience has showed her for what
Is worth giving
And the sun pours in the window frame
we’re showering
Together again
I’m trying not to fuck it up
But I’m almost out of luck
For I’m green in every sense of the word
As we’re swallowed by the light of the world
No ray of light could have anticipated this
Theoretical law is just taking the piss
Momentary to the monument
There’s an active reason why
I hold her body like the fruit of the womb
Of the last mother of mankind
She’s too beautiful
For me
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2. |
Bastille Day
07:05
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5 am
And the blackbird begins to sing
From the loving arms of a tree
Overlooking St. Stephens Green
The morning sky is a soft eyed
Heron blue of dawn
So gnomic in its meaning
I couldn’t help but yawn
In a city
That’s just about half awake
As it begins to see its dreams
Breaking into day
6 am
As I lay my head down
Dying a death
Trying to find myself in the crowd
I’m thinking too much
Of what daddy should have done
Not thinking enough
Of what I could become
In a city
That’s just about half awake
As the fox it goes to sleep
And the priest begins to pray
July 14th
Different city different crowd
I thought I had found someone
With whom I could feel proud
The night-time sky is a white light
Mimicry of war
Oh the atmosphere’s the ceiling
For a country with a whore
In a city
That’s just about half awake
Where gold lines the streets
For which colonies have paid
I’m alone
And beginning to see
Loss is intrinsic to
Destiny
All this pain
Came to say
All of these people
Came to say
Happy Bastille Day
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3. |
Beautiful Torture
06:37
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Torture
Beautiful Torture
Making me laugh
When you call
Torture
Beautiful Torture
John the Revelator’s
Belle of the ball
It’s been months now
Lord it’s been months now
You’ve been drinking my blood
From a cup of gold
And you hurt me
Lord didn’t you hurt me
And all I could hear
Was the cuckoo’s call
Her voice was the flame to dragon’s tongue
For hell as for heaven there’s will to be done
As we share the flesh of our bodies across this watered world
Is my love the love of a boy and is her love the love of a girl?
Hinge of your hip
To the skin on your thigh
To the scarlet throne
For your Breton fly
And it kills me
Yet this is a love song
We had the touch of heaven
But it was wrong
And I love you
Why do I love you?
Kiss me Babylon and I’ll kiss you back
Our time has gone but we can forget about that
Love is pleasure, lord God above, and love is pain
Why don’t we throw it all together if you’d kiss me again?
Kiss me Babylon and I’ll kiss you back
Our time has gone but we can forget about that
Life’s so short, Lord God above, and there’s so much pain
I’d take a little bit more if you’d kiss me again
Kiss me Babylon and I’ll kiss you back
Our time has gone but we can forget about that
Life’s so short, Lord God above, and there’s so much pain
I’d take a little bit more if you’d kiss me again
Kiss me Babylon and I’ll kiss you back
We’re worlds apart but we can forget about that
Love is pleasure, Lord God above, and love is pain
Why don’t we throw it all together if you’d kiss me again
Kiss me Babylon and I’ll kiss you back
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4. |
Leopold Bloom
04:12
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I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy having seven heads and ten horns, and the woman was arrayed with purple and scarlet colour, and decked with precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and uncleanness, and a name written on the forehead of her: Mystery, Babylon the Great, Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth, and I saw the woman drunken of the blood of saints and of the blood of martyrs, and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration.
I’ve just come in from the jungle
And all I see is night
Crawling like a spider
Across my mind
What is there beyond the setting sun?
That makes the threads of my life so come undone?
But of course I tell my mother
I’ve been a good boy
I tell my father
Of blue skies
I tell my brother, sister and friends
That I will be well in the end
That I will be well in the end
I’m a poor man’s Ted Bundy
But I’m a rich man’s Leopold Bloom
I’m within reach of every corner of my room
My veins are a portal
And my mind’s in a tesseract
Seeing the many dimensions
Of my death
But of course I tell my mother
I’ve been a good boy
I tell my father
Of blue skies
I tell my brother, sister, and friends
That I will be well in the end
That I will be well in the end
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5. |
Goldfinch Song
04:18
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There’s a quiet sea in the treetops
And a breath of love in the wind
There’s a depth above that to which we go
And sometimes from which we must come in
I can hear the alder sing
As a jackdaw notes the state of our passing
She was like a child, my Persephone
Whose life was a dream and her myth was reality
She had to be taken by the unseen man
As if written in stone by my Aegean hand
She was born in Spring
As a cuckoo called from a poplar branch in the evening
It was breath on breath and skin on skin
To be so far from death was our loves laudanum
Just as the seraph whispers in the soul of a bird
Her voice in mine will always be heard
This is a flower of evil
A goldfinch song for those who need their symbols
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Daniel Whelan Dublin, Ireland
Daniel Whelan grew and developed as a musician in the rural idylls of South Carlow. Near the foot of Mount Leinster he learned finger style guitar and listened to folk, country and alternative staples. His literary writing style developed out of a stiff Catholic upbringing and an inherent desperation to outgrow it's fettered approach to love, human nature and emotion. He is a romantic. ... more
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