When I first fell into melancholy music (not literally) all those years ago, alongside the more commercial artists I started to investigate (not literally – neither commercial (I’m still not sure if Tom McRae can ever really be seen as commercial), nor my investigation of them (I’ve never investigated Tom McRae, despite attending several gigs of his)), I also found a number of unsigned artists plying their trade. Amongst these, one stood out; someone who has always had a couple of their songs stay on my laptop, my MP3 player, and in my head.

syd

I ended up emailing Syd (or, as his parents know him, Erin Johnson Sidney) and his manager years and years ago – something they probably don’t remember, but which always meant something to me, as Syd replied with a kind, personal response.

Lately, I’ve found myself reminiscing a lot. As I grow older, my life is settling into comfortable patterns – I’m more comfortable with who I am; I’m more comfortable in understanding what makes me happy. Yes, there are still plenty of ups and downs, but life is more the former than the latter.

There were a number of Syd’s songs which have always been there through the last few years – some sad, some happy. All guitar-picked, and all simple, honest songs. From them, I give you “Here’s A Love Song”. It’s exactly what it says on the tin, but has never, ever, ever failed to make me smile wistfully, and think about the girls I’ve loved, who’ve loved me.

It’s not a complex song. But it means the world to me.

And the sigh at the very start is a sound embedded in my head for the rest of my life – the sound of telling someone how you feel about them.

The sound of telling someone you love them.

Sleeping in Saturdays
Taking time to get to know your face
Breathing in your smell on me
I’m addicted, you know, to vanilla these days

Butterfly kisses
And the promise you’ll spend all night this time
I just wanna say thank you
For taking a chance on a feeling inside so

Here’s a love song
For all the times you felt second place
And here’s a love song
For all the smiles that come when I see your face
Here’s a love song

I walk into the winter night
The city lights take the place of the stars in your eyes
I lost the moon again
But I stopped looking, I guess, when love caught me by surprise

You’re gonna be hard to get over
So I won’t, I don’t think, for a very long time
And in the summer
I’ll warm your bed if you promise you’ll warm mine

And here’s a love song
For all the times i fell into your eyes
And here’s a love song
For all the things you taught me last night
Here’s a love song

Here’s a love song
For all the things that you never said
And here’s a love song
For the night you left your bracelet at the end of my bed
Here’s a love song

Syd – Here’s A Love Song

www: Syd’s official website, Tumblr, Facebook Page, Twitter, and MySpace.

If you’re an aficionado of live music, you must know that moment. You know, THAT moment.

I’ve posted about THAT moment before, when seeing Tom McRae live a couple of years ago, and at the time, said:

I had one revelationary moment. I love music – completely and utterly – but sometimes, it goes beyond a passion, and hurts. Actually, physically, hurts. And as Tom played “American Spirit”, I stopped moving. Stopped breathing. My chest hurt – hurt more than it had in a long time. And for five and a half minutes, I loved every agonising second.

Well, Ben Howard, March 2012, did the same thing to me. I went to see him at a little venue called the Academy here in Dublin, and for his first song, he caused me actual hurt.

benhoward2

The song, “Depth Over Distance”, isn’t even on his album “Every Kingdom”. Instead, it’s the b-side (yes, I know what those are) to the single release of “Keep Your Head Up”.

As I watched, live, Ben sat on a high stool, his guitar across his lap, strings facing upwards, and he strummed and drummed on it, as he sang this utterly, utterly haunting song. And then…and then…and then…

In the song, it’s 3:22. Live, 4:16 in the video below.

Ben shows the true meaning of control in a singing voice – and left nearly everyone in the Academy feeling like they had been punched hard in the gut. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to feel anything but like screaming along in catharsis.

A song of realising that, although you might be in too deep, you’re willing to go ever deeper – whatever might come of it. And of asking someone else to come with you.

Depth over distance every time, my dear,
And this tree of ours may grow tall in the woods,
But it’s the roots that will bind us here,
To the ground

Depth over distance was all I asked of you
And I may be foolish to fall as I do
Still there’s strength in the blindness you fear
If you’re coming too
If you’re coming too

Hold on, wait until that lone sun
Breaks from the arms of the Lord
Hold on, though we may be too young
To know this ride we’re on

Depth over distance was all I asked of you
And everybody round here’s acting like a stone
Still there’s things I’d do, darling, I’d go blind for you
If you let go sometimes, let go sometimes, let it go
Just let it go sometimes

Hold on, wait until that lone sun
Breaks from the arms of the Lord
Hold on, though we may be too young
To know this ride we’re on
Hold on, wait though we may be too young
To know this ride we’re on

Depth over distance every time, my dear,
And I may be foolish to fall as I do
Still there’s strength in the blindness you fear
If you’re coming too
If you’re coming too

Hold on, wait until that lone sun
Breaks from the arms of the Lord
Hold on, though we may be too young
To know this ride we’re on
To know this ride
To know this ride we’re on

Ben Howard – Depth Over Distance

www: Ben’s official website, Facebook Page, and MySpace.

Holy crap. Just, holy crap.

Songs come in many forms. They can slowly sneak up on you, requiring multiple plays before they become something you can’t do without. They can catch your attention early, demanding immediate repeat listening. They can be shit, like One Direction (seriously, “Best British Single” at the BRIT Awards?).

And some songs punch you – hard, as hard as hard can be – in the stomach. Gut-wrenching, breath-taking, pounding, gasping.

“Come Back Down” is one of those – by Greg Laswell (whom I’ve featured before, over three and a half years ago), and featuring Sara Bareilles: a powerhouse of a song, which, if sung by Coldplay (and as I said those many years ago, Laswell does have a Chris Martin-esque voice), would result in a number 1 hit worldwide, if not farther (shut up).

greglaswell2

A stunning, stunning piece of work, “Come Back Down” is a dichotomy – a song of bitterness towards a friend or lover, frustrated with how they are and what they’re doing, but tempered with the very last vestiges of support for that person.

From the pseudo hand-claps in the first 5 seconds, to the layering of Sara’s voice inside 0:20, to her repeated solo line at 0:34…

All of your wallowing is unbecoming

…to a change at 0:49 that will raise your hackles, punch you, kick you to the ground, and drive itself into you…

If desperation had an anthem…

You’ve gotta take it on your own from here
It’s getting pathetic and I’m almost done here

…this is what it would sound like.

Come on now your good friends are here waiting this one out
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down
Look around you you’re the only one dragging this out
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down

All of your wallowing is unbecoming
All of your wallowing is unbecoming

You’ve gotta take it on your own from here
It’s getting pathetic and I’m almost done here
You’ve gotta take it on your own from here
It’s getting pathetic and I’m almost done here

What you set out to kill off has been gone some time now
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down
Head out any further and you might just forget how
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down

All of your wallowing is unbecoming
All of your wallowing is unbecoming

You gotta take it on your own from here
It’s getting pathetic and I’m almost done here
You’ve gotta take it on your own from here
It’s getting pathetic and I’m almost done here

All of your wallowing is unbecoming
All of your wallowing is unbecoming

You’ve gotta take it on your won from here
It’s getting pathetic and I’m almost done here
You’ve gotta take it on your own from here
It’s getting pathetic and I’m almost done here

You’ve gotta take it on your own from here
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down
You’ve gotta come back down…

Greg Laswell featuring Sara Bareilles – Come Back Down

www: Greg’s official website, Facebook Page, and MySpace.

I was in college at 19, halfway through my degree, wondering what the world would hold for me.

I wasn’t producing music like that of Gabrielle Aplin, an English singer-songwriter who has produced a song which I’m officially putting forward as One Of The Most Affecting Songs Of 2010™.

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From her 2010 Acoustic EP (an EP on which all the songs are acoustic – see what I did there? Witty, eh?), I give you “Ghosts” – and again, a friend shout-out to Vanessa, who pointed me in the direction of Miss Aplin (and many others, including Kina Grannis, who still hasn’t agreed to marry me. I know you like to be updated on this “will-they, won’t-they” situation).

A plucked guitar joined by a tremulous female vocal, with a truly wonderful change at 0:37, with the addition of a beautiful piano line and that voice growing in strength and intensity, and a bass line and drums underneath, coming to the fore at 0:52, before fading again.

An anthem that ebbs and flows, with one of the most impactful endings I’ve heard in a long time, with a repeated refrain which will crawl under your skin…

I’m pulling pictures off the wall watching smiles as they fall

A desperately sad song of fear, of being left alone by people you thought meant something to you, and your revenge against those people…

I’m sick and tired of hanging out my window,
I’ve learnt from past experience rain can’t make flowers grow
And friends don’t stick around
They go which way the wind goes
You’re never safe and sound until all the doors are closed
Doors are closed
Doors are closed, yeah

When you’re awake on your own
Shadows turn into ghosts

When you’re awake on your own
Shadows turn into ghosts

Soon it will fall apart
And their roads will have no way
And you’ll be the one laughing
As their fences fade away
And instead of being left there, feeling all alone
Break down the house you made of matchsticks
And set fire to their throne
To the throne
To the throne

When you’re awake on your own
Shadows turn into ghosts

When you’re awake on your own
Shadows turn into ghosts

Home becomes what you’re scared of the most
Home becomes what you’re scared of the most
When shadows turn into ghosts
It’s what you’re scared of the most

I’m pulling pictures off the wall watching smiles as they fall
I’m pulling pictures off the wall watching smiles as they fall
I’m pulling pictures off the wall watching smiles as they fall
Pulling pictures off the wall
I’m pulling pictures off the wall watching smiles as they fall

When you’re awake on your own
Shadows turn into ghosts

When you’re awake on your own
Shadows turn into ghosts

Home becomes what you’re scared of the most
Home becomes what you’re scared of the most
When shadows turn into ghosts
It’s what you’re scared of the most

Gabrielle Aplin – Ghosts

www: Gabrielle’s official website, Facebook Page, and MySpace.

After the profanity-filled rant of my last post (I do apologise to those of a gentler disposition than myself), I’m afraid it’s necessary for me to profane againm with my second-ever post on the wonderful Startled Bunny, from Scotland.

Sorry, Frightened Rabbit.

frightenedrabbit2

I posted about Frightened Rabbit three years ago (three years? Jebus…), and on this special night in Scotland (Robbie Burns Night, for those of you who didn’t know – and if you didn’t, for shame! For shame! (No, I didn’t know until told today either…)), I give you one of Scotland’s greatest bands, accompanied by Tracyanne Campbell, from Camera Obscura.

“Fuck This Place” is from a recently-released Frightened Rabbit three-song EP sold on their most recent tour, and it a wonderful ballad of complete sadness – a male and female call-and-response lament of desperation that builds and builds over four-odd minutes of military-tattoo drums and electric guitars.

A ballad of being empty; of a life not fulfilled; of pleading another to fill a gap inside, when maybe it’s not their place to.

An itch
My eye
Twitched like a memory of forgotten bars
One of those cities
One of those nights
Everyone’s darling
Everyone’s sweetheart

Just this drink to hold my hand
One glass of anything
Anything cheap
And I’m here just because
Everyone else has come just to be seen

Oh I don’t know these buildings
I think I’m lost

In the perfumed armpit of time
Develop a debt now, these people are bricks
Six feet stones, wrapped up in bow
Such disappointment when the paper is ripped
So I stand still boring and bored
Fetching my eye again
Against the wall

At the end
At the close
Would you be good enough to take me home
‘Cause I don’t know these buildings, I think I am lost
‘Cause I don’t know these buildings, I think I am lost

Would you
Would you
Would you be good enough to take me home?
Would you
Would you
would you be good enough to take me home?
Would you
Would you
would you be good enough to take me home?
Would you
Would you
would you be good enough to take me home?

Frightened Rabbit – Fuck This Place

www: Frightened Rabbit’s official website, Facebook Page, and MySpace.

And it’s happened again. A couple of weeks ago, I was at work, when one of my friends, Niall, decided to message me about an upcoming gig.

“Dude, have you heard Ben Howard? He’s AMAZING, and he’s playing in the Academy in March. Listen to this, and wanna go?”

Well, Niall isn’t an American surfer-type, so the conversation didn’t in fact go like the above. However, he did send me “Old Pine”, a song by an artist called Ben Howard, and asked about the upcoming gig.

So I played the song…

benhoward

And fuck. Now, those of you who read the blog regularly (coming back again and again, hoping, praying I’ll update the damn thing) will know I don’t swear on here lightly. But fuck. FUCK.

My exact thoughts were:

Nice picked string start. Oh, nice vocal work. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Hmmm, his voice isn’t quite like I expected. Oh. Oh. Oh, that’s good. Those lyrics are excellent. And that’s a rather nice vocal twist.

This is good. Oh, really gorgeous entry of the drums.

This is building nicely. Very nicely. All he needs now is…and there’s the anthemic part. Wow, this is a little hair-raising.

Holy crap, this is stunning.

So, I give you Ben Howard, with “Old Pine”, from “Every Kingdom”, released last year. Ben is 23 years old, and making melodic rootsy folk music, with somewhat dark lyrics. (What? Wikipedia told me. I don’t produce any new material myself. Don’t you people know this yet? Soon, I’ll just be copy-pasting entire Wikipedia entries.)

But “Old Pine” isn’t dark – it’s a wonderful ode to getting older, and to the role good memories and friends play as you do so. And about, yes, being happy as time passes.

Hopefully your thoughts will follow mine, and like me, you’ll end up playing this song on repeat for days, and weeks, to come.

And say it with me, one last time.

FUCK.

Hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags,
I’ve come to know that memories
Were the best things you ever had
The summer shone beat down on bony backs
So far from home where the ocean stood
Down dust and pine cone tracks

We slept like dogs down by the fire side
Awoke to the fog where all around us
The bloom of summertime

We stood
Steady as the stars in the woods
So happy-hearted
And the warmth rang true inside these bones
As the old pine fell we sang
Just to bless the morning

Hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags,
I’ve come to know the friends around you
Are all you’ll always have
Smoke in my lungs, the echoed stone
Careless and young, free as the birds that fly
With weightless souls now

We stood
Steady as the stars in the woods
So happy-hearted
And the warmth rang true inside these bones
We stood
Steady as the stars in the woods
So happy-hearted
And the warmth rang true inside these bones
As the old pine fell we sang
Just to bless the morning

We grow, grow, steady as the morning
We grow, grow, older still
We grow, grow, happy as a new dawn
We grow, grow, older still
We grow, grow, steady as the flowers
We grow, grow, older still
We grow, grow, happy as a new dawn
We grow, grow, older still

Ben Howard – Old Pine

www: Ben’s official website, Facebook Page, and MySpace.

I came across a wonderful song recently – 5 people playing a song on a single guitar…

Once the novelty wore off (no, no it still hasn’t, to be honest…), I tracked down the original song to an artist called Gotye (pronounced “Gore-ti-yeah”). And found, to quote from a comment on YouTube on one of his videos, a modern day Peter Gabriel.

gotye

Gotye, or to give him his full name, Wouter “Wally” De Backer, is a Belgian-Australian multi-instrumental musician and singer-songwriter. And WHAT a Belgian-Australian multi-instrumental musician and singer-songwriter!

His 2011 album “Making Mirrors” is an utterly stunning piece of work, which is (stealing from his Facebook Page)…

pop at its most precise, but also electronic music at its most emotional. The record delves into dub, Detroit-era Motown soul, stadium-size politipop, synth-folk and world music on glorious, sprawling, huge-hearted songs.

And from that album, I give you two opposites. For the first time, I’ve also included the videos for both, as they are truly stunning pieces of work.

Firstly, “Somebody That I Used To Know”, a song of utter anger and frustration, about the breakup of a relationship which then deteriorates even further:

So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I’ll admit that I was glad that it was over

But you didn’t have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don’t even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn’t have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don’t need that though
Now you’re just somebody that I used to know

With Gotye’s passionate voice, truly reminiscent of Peter Gabriel, a plucked guitar line, many instruments I can’t even name, and not one but two wonderful vocal changes – Gotye’s himself at 1:34, and the entrance of a female vocalist, Kimbra, at 2:33, with another change at 2:48, to counter Gotye for the remainder of the song, this song will crawl deeply under your skin and stay there for months if not years. A song of anger, of pain, of hatred, of passion gone so wrong.

Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it’s an ache I still remember

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end
Always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I’ll admit that I was glad that it was over

But you didn’t have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don’t even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn’t have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don’t need that though
Now you’re just somebody that I used to know

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I’d done
And I don’t wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn’t catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know…

But you didn’t have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don’t even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn’t have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don’t need that though
Now you’re just somebody that I used to know

Somebody
(I used to know)
Somebody
(Now you’re just somebody that I used to know)
Somebody
(I used to know)
Somebody
(Now you’re just somebody that I used to know)

I used to know
That I used to know
I used to know
Somebody

And it’s exact opposite is “Bronte”, a song of complete loss, but of staying with another even though you know you’re losing them. A song of pain as you lose someone (to death, as apparently the song was written by Gotye for the death of a family friend’s dog), and of being there with the other to the very end.

A heavy drum backing, an almost choral-like feel, a slowly building anthem, and THAT voice again – a wonderful falsetto balancing the pressure of the music itself. Turn this one loud and let those small hairs raise all over.

Now your bowl is empty
And your feet are cold
And your body cannot stop rocking
I know
It hurts to let go

Since the day we found you
You have been our friend
And your voice still
Echoes in the hallway of this house
But now
It’s the end

We will be with you
When you’re leaving
We will be with you
When you go
We will be with you
And hold you till you’re quiet
It hurts to let you go

We will be with you
We will be with you
We will be with you
You will stay with us

Gotye – Somebody That I Used To Know (feat. Kimbra)

Gotye – Bronte

www: Gotye’s official website, Facebook Page, MySpace, and Youtube channel.

And if you want more about the band playing the cover, check out Walk Off The Earth’s official website, Facebook Page and MySpace.

I’ve posted about Kina Grannis before, proposing marriage. Which she didn’t accept, sadly. I know you all want to know these things.

kinagrannis2

Tonight, it’s a simple post. I give you Kina’s “Stay Just A Little” . A little piano, a little plucked guitar, THAT voice, with just a hint of backing vocals, telling a tale of love ending, and the quiet desperation that goes with it – what do you say to the other half of you when they say they have to leave?

Do you beg for a moment more, knowing that the pain of losing is simply postponed?

Do you let them go, knowing you’ve already lost them?

I heard it in your voice
When your love died
On a telephone connection
Stretching miles and miles of wire

You said it was over
And then cried and cried
You were gone before I said, “Goodbye.”

Would you stay just a little, my love?
Would you sway just a little, my love?
‘Cause the hole in the middle of my heart needs filling up
If you stay just a little that’s enough

It kills me as I lay awake at night
Remembering the last kiss that we shared doesn’t feel right
Is it impossible for me to win this fight?
Keep you a little longer in my life

Would you stay just a little, my love?
Would you sway just a little, my love?
‘Cause the hole in the middle of my heart needs filling up
If you stay just a little that’s enough

Oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh

‘Cause the hole the hole in the middle of my heart needs filling up
If you stay just a little
If you stay just a little
That’s enough

Kina Grannis – Stay Just A Little

www: Kina’s official website, Facebook Page, MySpace, and Youtube channel.

James Vincent McMorrow. There’s not a huge amount of else around, information-wise, about the Irishman with three names.

He’s Irish.

He released his first album, “Early In The Morning”, in 2010.

It’s fucking good.

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From a man who utilises hushed tones and musical soundscapes reminiscent of Bon Iver, I give you “We Don’t Eat” – an absolutely stunning piano-led track built on JVM’s utterly haunting voice, and a slowly building intensity over the course of 5 minutes, introducing guitar and drums as it builds and builds to a hair-raising finale.

A song about being stuck in a set of beliefs, knowing it’s time to move on, but always feeling held back by the past. About finally moving on from those beliefs – or feeling that you have – but realising that that moving on has left you questioning your own value, your own worth.

Has that moving on really made you a better person?

If this is redemption, why do I bother at all?
There’s nothing to mention, and nothing has changed
Still I’d rather be working at something, than praying for the rain
So I wander on, until someone else is saved

I moved to the coast, under a mountain
Swam in the ocean, slept on my own
At dawn I would watch the sun cut ribbons through the bay
I’d remember all the things my mother wrote

That we don’t eat until your father’s at the table
We don’t drink until the devil’s turned to dust
Never once has any man I’ve met been able to love
So if I were you, I’d have all this on trust

Two thousand years, I’ve been in that water
Two thousand years, sunk like a stone
Desperately reaching for nets
That the fishermen have thrown
Trying to find, a little bit of hope

Me, I was holding all of my secrets soft and hid
Pages were folded, then there was nothing at all
So if in the future I might need myself a savior
I’ll remember what was written on that wall

That we don’t eat until your father’s at the table
We don’t drink until the devil’s turned to dust
Never once has any man I’ve met been able to love
So if I were you, I’d have all this on trust

Am I an honest man and true?
Have I been good to you at all?
Oh I’m so tired of playing these games
We’d just be running down
The same old lines, the same old stories of
Breathless trains and, worn down glories
Houses burning, worlds that turn on their own

So we don’t eat until your father’s at the table
We don’t drink until the devil’s turned to dust
Never once has any man I’ve met been able to love
So if I were you my friend, I’d learn to have just a little bit of trust

James Vincent McMorrow – We Don’t Eat

www: James Vincent McMorrow’s official website, Facebook Page, and MySpace.

William Fitzsimmons.

Three times in the last three and a half years, I’ve posted about William Fitzsimmons – from the folktronica, to the folk, and back to his using his tronic-making device again.

Last Monday, I had the absolute and utter pleasure of seeing William live here in Dublin, in a tiny venue of a couple of hundred people. Looking like a lumberjack who had taken a wrong turn somewhere, he played a couple of songs, showing himself to be one of those artists sounding better live than even on CD. And then he spoke, and my 1-way bromance began. Alongside Tom McRae, William Fitzsimmons is one of the genuine and funny singers I’ve seen. I’ve been lucky that it’s been a long time since I’ve gone to a gig where the band come, play what they need to play, and with a cursory “Hello” and “Goodbye”, disappear into the night. Obviously saying hello when they come out, and goodbye as they leave. Otherwise that would be a little odd. I digress.

williamfitzsimmons3

Between the songs, William showed the most endearing self-deprecation and humour, having the audience in stitches – before moving into the music, leaving everyone near tears. With songs about his divorce and mental illness, it was almost too-tough going at times. Almost. And as a final emotional blow, his encore was his unplugging his guitar and stepping into the middle of the crowd to play two songs acoustically, with no microphone, just his backing players/singers (from a band called Slow Runner – soon to be featured here).

After the gig, he came out to meet everyone. I hung on until he was free (the first time I’ve done that in a long, long time), and was the last person left, chatting to him for a few minutes before heading off, and finding him the same as he was on stage – witty, genuine, and a truly wonderful person.

So, from William, I give you “Passion Play”, from his first album, 2005’s “Until When We Are Ghosts” – plucked and slide guitar, and THAT voice. The song meaning is yours to derive (by his own admission, he prefers people to bring their own meaning out of songs)…

But is essentially about wanting to be better. Wanting to be different…

I should not have hid where my heart can’t follow
‘Cause this grace gets so far and too hard to swallow
I’ve been running from Saul, he’s been giving chase
And I look in his eyes, all I see is my face

Are you still on my back after all these years?
Chasing me out of Hell and my nice veneers
I don’t know how you stand when you’ve got no floor
Or how you can breathe with your hands on board

I just want to be not what I am today
I just want to be better than my friends might say
I just want a small part in your passion play

Do you hear when I call in the midst of wrong?
Do you hear these here words while I sing you this song?
Are you caught up in me like I heard you say?
Or just some big cashier that I’ll have to pay

I just want to be not what I am today
I just want to be better than my friends might say
I just want a small part in your passion play

William Fitzsimmons – Passion Play

www: The Bearded One’s official website, Facebook Page, and MySpace.