The Curious Feet Suite out May 17th.
pre/save-order the physical CD that comes with a little book (all handmade). We launch it in London at the Muddy Puddle on the 17th of May.

Curious Feet

Curious feet
Spent in lines
Here is everywhere
Wishes go
And I have went, silently
Into the old
Waiting for the curious new.
To define the quiet
Like putting a sleepy gust of wind on trial
Tested by the time that always goes
And lines the road with well defined,
Curious rhymes
Anyway the wind unwinds.

Words do tend to defeat us sometimes,
Clichés make us wonder.
In certain ways towards each other
And in similar difference,
The curtain calls.
Walls go up and votes are spent on others views
Slipping on the clicking soles of bounded, men, women and children.
And that is all that we can be.
A who, a what and possibly a why.
Etch toward these things that tend to test the time
Either, get in each other’s way
or slip on the clichéd shoes
And Go for words that mean to regain our trust in all the current Trends, and never mean anything.

We are no longer the who, the what or even the why.
It’s all external and reflected views,
Reflective of the past, or of a now that is too fast.
When was that we wonder, and wonder where’s our own when?
And the children, we tell them to defend,
Something makes us spend our time in trends.
Never wonder towards these things that tend to test the time.

Words do tend to defeat us sometimes
The wind decides in ways its spent
And rhymes become,
Curiously defined
Well as the road has lines
And goes all the way
Past that line, clocks the debt
Trialed for trying to define
A seat that would only let you stand
And wish everywhere was here.

Here lies
Lines in spent feet
As curious feet
Are spent in lines


Wobbly Ground

See those feet wobble on his man
So noble to be standing
The day after the one before
A simple feat
Of weathered feet
In hail, rain and wind
Blow the cobwebs off
From a man suck
In measurements of God given rights
In liquids that ride the mind like a carousel And leave the body to wake
In sheets and folds
Of blanketed frozen frames
Of days that feel the same

Over and over, and over again
See those feet wobble on his man

And minds that are driven
By merry-go-rounds and fairytales
That leave the body
To pick up themselves
And walk towards a noble stand
Just feet away from wobbly ground
This is the day after the one before
These are simple feet


So Well

I am afraid I have been in a rush.
To die and leave nothing but trails of thought and things that feel
a bit like art.
You could be so smart, as to leave nothing at your side.
I have loved as long as the sun will allow, and lay beside hope in
trails of thought.
Something feels, your heart’s in my hands
And everything I have ever done
Is nothing but a burning bush.
So as long as you are well,
I will pick a rose
As long as the flames allow.

Never, in a rush is hope to leave
Afraid the trails of thought behind
Something, feels my heart’s in yours.
So as long as you are so well
Here is everything I have
And all the time behind would do so well
To live inside trials of art, leave behind the flowers.
So well as long as love allows
Pick a rose and lay beside
Hope in trails of thought and things that feel a bit like art.