False peril

by Rob Howard

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1.
(free) 02:34
2.
(free) 02:59
3.
(free) 03:14
4.
(free) 03:25
5.
(free) 04:11
6.
(free) 05:13

credits

released February 14, 2013

RH: guitar, voice, cello, casio, ocarina

tags

tags: pop Bristol

license

all rights reserved

about

Rob Howard Bristol, UK

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Track Name: In the cells
On a mountainside
The rain waits to fall
Bodies turn without a sound
Castles ruined underground

On an upland plain
Ready for the chill
To slip into your brain
And mutate in the cells

In a concrete bay
The tide waits to draw
Bodies turn without a sound
Castles ruined underground

On a lowland plain
Ready for the chill
To slip into your brain
And mutate in the cells

And the bodies turn
And they always will
So slip into the veins
And mutate in the cells
Track Name: Wade
Wade into the darkness
Wade into the darkness
Your light will not show in the light
So wade now into the darkness
Track Name: Leaves
In the morning
When you come down
It's the same old scene
Leaves blowing
In through the kitchen
It's the same old scene

And in the darkness
It's okay to be seen falling
And the competition's learning
To read between the lines

In the evening
You know it's coming
It's the same old deal
Leaves blowing
In through the kitchen
It's the same old deal

And in the darkness
It's okay to be heard calling
And the competition's learning
To read between the lines

The time it takes means nothing to you
Track Name: Off the ridge
Say what you like
It's no worse than the sight
Of an old stone bridge
Crumbling down off the ridge

Say what you like
It's no worse than the sight
Of that old wooden bed
And the darkness it spread

It's the cold in you

Say what you like
It's no worse than the sight
Of an old white veil
In a window for sale

It's the cold in you
Track Name: Scissors & stone
You were born into the light
When it's gone, you pass alone into the night
Two separate dwellings, one ahead and one behind
Inkspots dampen your paper mind

Slow train, slow train
Storm drain, storm drain

Lay your possessions on the lawn
In a crater in the town where you were born
Under the flightpath where you dwell without a sound
In and on the wasted ground

Slow train, slow train
Storm drain, storm drain
Slow train, storm drain

A scene to assuage your doubt:
Scattered on the ground, your paper scribbled out
Now you stumble round your convalescent home
With your scissors and your stone

You will be shown around