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1. |
Bric a Brac
03:40
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2. |
Locust Rain
02:47
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3. |
Openings
02:46
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4. |
Book the Spine
03:23
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The Book and the Spine
The passage of time, renders everything spineless;
See that white chalk
Upon the floor?
The crumbling book spine: “Mysterious Britain”
Denuded, eroded; it lies on the floor.
Pages drifting like leaves from a tree
I gave it to her: she lends it to me.
Bent down double
Crackled and brittle:
The book and the spine
Passage of time.
(ch) I gave it to mother in ‘85
White chalk spine: now it’s mine
Vellum thin, broken skin
I gave it to her…in ’85.
The book contains unseen knowledge:
Bren Tor chalice, Callinish Stones
Can you still feel the ley-lines
Invisible criss-cross
Hidden frailties
Down to the bone?
Is there any hope of reconstruction
Will there ever be…restoration?
I contemplate the loss of our mother
The book, the spine and the passage of time.
Lyrics D.Pope (2011)
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5. |
The Pulpit
03:58
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The Pulpit
When I was younger, dark were the trees
Everything was so simple
Birds and the bees
Then I left my home for a town called Misery
I became nocturnal
Glued to God’s TV.
And my hand’s tight, tight on the pulpit
This life revolves, turns into bullshit.
When I was older, my skin it did change
My hands got gnarled and knotted up, like oak in the pulpit
And you don’t know what it’s like to be me…
And my hands, tight; SINK into the pulpit
This life revolves and turns into bullshit.
Now SEE me change: change into Director
No more sermonising; mahogany spectre!
I’ll cut you out
Oh Lord, blessed be
I’ll cut it out
Out of me!
Guess I’ll cut you out
Cut out the rot
But St.John’s Wort doth help me not.
Lyrics D.Pope 2010
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6. |
Crow
04:17
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7. |
Black Pebble Dream
06:07
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BPD (Black Pebble Dream)
Awaken slowly, make resolution
A change of scene: paint a new backdrop
Leave all this mundane chaos behind you
Get into your car: drive out of the city.
From highway to B Road, shrinking to farm track
As route ways recede perceptions expanding
At the top of a hill, in the middle of nowhere
You find the lake of reflection, poured out, before you…
Get outta the car, take a good look around you
Breathe in perfection, start cleansing the spirit
Walk down to the water: select a black pebble
Empty the mind as it melts into your hand…
There is not one ripple ‘pon the lake of reflection
A beach is deserted at the summit of moorland
A lifetime suspended, a magical friction
Turn the pebble around, and around…
Fly up – Over the mirror
GO UP – Over the silver
Straight into the middle of the lake of perfection (levitating).
And when you get to the centre you KNOW what to do
To recharge the cosmos, let go of black pebble
Let it fall in the water, right now…
Above the centre of the Lake of Reflection
The pebble falls, under the full moon
Lifetimes suspended, timeless and silent
And the surface is broken
FOREVER
The ripples expand…the ripples expand
Under moonlight perceived the birds wake up! They sing to the Goddess…
Then a warm inner glow envelopes the universe
As you wake up for real: it was mere dreaming?
And you look to the right, next to the bedside
In the centre of trinkets lies a Black wet pebble!
You smile to yourself
Replenished
So happy with yourself
And you turn to your lover
And say, “happy new year”…
And in the centre of trinkets, lies a black wet pebble….
Lyrics D.Pope 2013
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8. |
Salle D'Attente
04:04
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Salle D’Attente
She will hang her head and cry: Petals floating slowly by
Tresses veil the sky
Anaemic: Buttercups upon her dress
Wasted cheap Temptress….
She likes to play the Witch and curse: dipping hands into the stream
Agonising could’ve-beens
Elusive: Water slips between cold fingers, “Stay”
Illusions drift away…….
Anaemic buttercups they’re Heaven-scent
She would’ve, could’ve, should’ve left
Le Salle D’attente
Waltzing feathers surf upon the breeze, aimlessly from tree to tree
Blown away……..
She’ll hang her head in shame, til Night succumbs to Day
Caressing: Broken hearts that never mend
Pagan lost princess, searching for a friend…….
Anaemic buttercups are Heaven sent
She would’ve, could’ve should’ve went: Salle D’attente
Immortal smile upon that crazy face
Trussed up tight in Crimson lace…….
Another feather falls, without a sound
Pirouettes on rotting ground……..
A table and a chair, a piece of rope just hanging there…..
(Salle D’attente)
Medusa head stuck on a spike
Dripping angst, composed of spite
She will hang her head again, until Night succumbs to Day
She will hang herself and cry: All those years spent running dry
Waiting
Waiting just to die.
Lyrics: D Pope
Hallowe’en 2003
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9. |
Predator
06:08
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10. |
We Dance
04:53
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11. |
Ultra Psy Dance
04:12
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12. |
Safehouse
02:32
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13. |
Tourettes
02:41
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14. |
Fragile
01:55
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15. |
20 something
02:53
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The Conspiracy London, UK
In late 1989 two cousins began recording original songs. Since then there have been many releases on German & English Independent labels, along with several inclusions on various compilations over the years. In a nutshell The Conspiracy's music is very English. It is an eclectic, intelligent & original interpretation of the finest elements of British Pop, Indie Rock & Folk, plus a lot more! ... more
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