1. |
Orange or Green
03:54
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2. |
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So I get this quite a lot:
“Hey man, erhh… you don’t by any chance know where I can get…”
Which is an interesting start to a question from someone that I’ve never met.
Get what? These fine hippy clothes?
Why yes, there's a shop called ‘Rainbow Tie-Dye’ that have loads,
I’m glad you like the colours,
You should see some of my others.
Or perhaps they want advice on how to get luscious dreads?
Honestly reconsider, unless you’re not quite wise in the head,
They’re hard and uncomfortable, give them a feel,
And there are all these loose hairs I wear a bandana to conceal,
And then there’s taking showers:
If I wash them, drying them takes hours,
If you want a project get a pot plant,
You can’t really top that.
Maybe they want to know where the nearest bus stop is,
But given public transport in Northern Ireland what’s the likelihood of this.
I’ve even been asked when I’m on holiday:
“C’est dans ma pantalon, no parle Francais!”
But alas, no, what I’m being asked is if I sell marijuana you see,
Grass, blow, skunk and zombie – I’m not quite sure what half the phrases mean.
At which point I could reply, “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid not lad,
I’m pretty sure that stuff’s illegal, don’t you know that drugs are bad?
I don’t even smoke the stuff myself,
Not even for the good of my health,
You should look beyond stereotypes; they’re all a bit weak,
Even the French say more than just ‘sacré bleu, la baguette, c’est fantastique!’
If you want to chill out just go for a walk at dawn,
Sit on the beach ‘til you bleach your hair blonde,
If that takes too long to fit around your job,
Skinny dip at midnight – you won’t feel more alive than when the Atlantic’s splashing your knob,
Write a song or a symphony, or learn to meditate,
There are so many other things that could make you feel great…”
But I don’t say that,
He doesn’t want my life story with all the trimmings and fat,
Sure, viva la stereotype, I’ll mess him about
And say “Ahh, sorry man, I’ve just sold out.”
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3. |
A Dream Come True
01:21
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As the sun slowly slides from the sky
Earlier with each passing Autumn day
The old city is soaked in gold and bronze
The dusty haze catching the falling rays
Between the long roofs and factory walls
Between the crooked tiles and broken bricks
Outside the air is bright and cool and full of life
Behind the door the air is thick.
Behind the door in the warehouse old
It’s damp and cold and memories hang
From the walls and the trusses and beams
That protrude from the roof like fangs
Stories are here that should never be forgotten
They twist and haunt the ancient air
Stories of families pulled apart through blind hate
A sick injustice to what’s right or fair.
As I walk out the door into the golden sunlight
With my love in my hand, it’s a dream come true
It’s not my dream, but that of thousands more
Who were not as lucky as I or you
And as we stand in the free air all seems still
The old factories frame the perfect view
No words need said, the silence is golden
Life is so perfectly precious and it’s a dream come true.
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Ezekiel Boom Lisburn, UK
Ezekiel Boom, from Ballinderry blends folk, poetry, funk and pop via Buckfast, an acoustic guitar and various other small
instruments, occasionally with the help of other musicians such as Mr Slice and MC Nerrve.
Mark Venus Music Songwriter winner 2012. Toured Europe with a folk band and a van. Played Sunflowerfest, Bristol Folk Festival and Bristol Acoustic Music Festival amongst other gigs.
... more
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