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Painted Horses

from Carry On, Crow by Ichabod Wolf

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lyrics

In the coffee shops of Amsterdam
Full blooded Anglo-Saxon men
Vomit and shout
They’re slaves unto their culture

While in Birdholme Working Men’s Club
Stands the only girl I have ever loved
She’s draining suds from her husband’s half of porter
I am wide-eyed
A lamb to the slaughter

In some piss-stain room off Boythorpe Road
Talking in code down borrowed phones
All the rest is overload
And I’m losing focus

‘Til someone calls another round
And a short one more to wash it down
There’s no need to be nervous now
We’re in this together
It was so good for so long
Nothing lasts forever

It was only once I’d returned to my senses
Did I realise you were always at the centre
We were all just painted horses going round

So the Artex ceiling drips its stalactites
While the smoke crawls through the window into night

Once the priest delivers sacrament
The coroner scrawls accident
We’ll carry on
The world must keep on turning

‘Til all that’s left are souvenirs
The only proof you were ever here
And the loose change in my pocket is money for burning
God knows I feel old now
There’s so much I’m still learning

Alone astride the carousel
Rich tapestry or living hell
The only constant is the changing of the seasons

But I believe in Herrmann Hesse
In Gustav Klimt and Joan Baez
I believe we must be put here for a reason
I’d unlock the secrets
But can’t get the key in

Then how shall I articulate this grief
With the romance of a poet
Or the honour of a thief
The things we treasure most we cannot keep
I’ll miss you old friend but I will not weep

We begin again
When we go to sleep

credits

from Carry On, Crow, released October 31, 2018

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