1. |
Clumsy Sunday
04:49
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On a clumsy Sunday
A single day to rest and heal
Trippers from a city
Stumble across a field
The furrows in the farmland
Hold scraps of ancient root and bone
New-bought boots are broken
Scuffed and scarred on stone
Gathered by the gateside
They find the path and line don’t match
Decide on a direction
Wander off the map
Wander away…
There’s birdsong in the bushes
The cries and calls all sound the same
Trees and hedges green and grey
None of them can name their names
The warmest feel it’s winter
Even though the month is May
The coldest soon turn counter
Walk back and drive away
If we must make a moral
It will say the same to you and to me
Our lives stay superficial
Where we have carved no history
The deepest tracks are trodden
Where we walk again our old life’s way
We grow in wit and wonder
When we walk our distance every day
When we walk our distance every day
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2. |
Neighbours
03:49
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All the village gather round
News has come in from the town
There’s a plague, evil in the land
Join the just, be part of the plan
Force confessions, write them down
The clerk will list the first few names
Old maid Carter, Lizzie James
But after time, so many have been done
There’s no patience to question every one
Write, “sundry witches took the blame”
As a proof that you are good
Go get the straw, boys, get the wood
Before the ending of this day
Gather together we can pray
Ring the bell, hear the bell ring
Tie them tightly in the pyre
Feed the flames and fan them higher
Cleanse the land, to help the crop to grow
As bodies burn, feel our troubles go
Sundry witches
Friendless women
Lonely people
Unwanted neighbours in the fire
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3. |
On and Off
04:17
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4. |
Cut
02:56
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Cut on a Monday, done by stealth
Cut on a Tuesday, bad for health
Cut on a Wednesday, typical blues
Cut on a Thursday, bury the news
Cut on a Friday, there is no more
Too much food could spoil the poor
Turn off the heat and sit in the dark
While they cut on a Saturday, sell off the park
Cut the music, cut the art
Seize the class and cut out its heart
Cut on a Sunday to punish your sin
You deserve what you got if you voted them in
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5. |
Watersmeet
02:29
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Many lifetimes before
Your body washed to the shore
Who heard your final heartbeat
Up where the waters meet
As far back as memory
The waters rush down to the sea
And while all that lives must decay
Shadow returns every day
Were your last moments sweet
Were you swept off your feet
Do you linger to tell
You weren’t alone when you fell
As far back as memory
The waters rush down to the sea
And while all that lives must decay
Shadow returns every day
Were your last moments sweet
Were you swept off your feet
Who heard your final heartbeat
Up where the waters meet
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6. |
Roundabout
04:58
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We can't tell the left from the right
Pull down the shade and hope for the best
Painted signs
An easy ride
A following wind
We're lost inside
We're lost inside
Steered by a word
Shoot the moon
A satellite guide
A crack of doom
Painted signs
An easy ride
A following wind
We're lost inside
We're lost inside
Steered by a star
Shot the moon
A satellite tribe
Sinking soon
A slick man's scheme
A quick machine
Driven by fear
In low gear
A slick man's scheme
A quick machine
Driven by fear
In low gear
We're caught on a roundabout
Caught on a roundabout
But all of the lines were out
We can't tell the left from the right
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7. |
Lambs
02:45
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8. |
Cold Eyes
04:34
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I'd like to look at the world out of cold eyes
To understand how it would be
To see every living moment turn to win or lose
A matter of force and strategy
As I sat in my palace in my stolen land
Deluded by my talk of destiny
I'd be removed from the pain and the suffering
The fruit of my assault on history
I'd tell the same old rotten story
Commit the same old rotten crimes
Show the same old cruel senility
Another old man who outlived his time
I'd tear the wings off an angel
I'd see the land and sea defiled
Disregard the slaughter of millions
I'd blind the eyes of a child
I'd tear the wings off an angel
I'd see the land and sea defiled
Disregard the slaughter of millions
I'd blind the eyes of a child
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9. |
Table Talk
01:25
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She says:
'Too many cooks would spoil the broth,'
And shows her teeth
And claws the tablecloth
With sharpened fingernails.
'And too much broth would spoil the cooks,'
Says he,
And stretches out to flick the line away,
A penny to a pauper.
Where it falls
The laundered linen jerks and judders
And sets a wine glass spinning on its side.
Next day, the stain of wine has fully dried.
The laundress wets the soap and presses down.
Her hand is fully human -
They will drown.
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Endless Idiot Wallingford, UK
"Endless Idiot is a solo DIY project by me, former Who Killed Nancy Johnson? frontman Stefan
Ball.
"The aim is to make music that I find interesting... so Endless Idiot will go in different directions, depending on what I fancy at the time.
"Thanks for reading. I hope you find something you like."
---
"Sheer dynamite" - Liverpool Sound and Vision
... more
Endless Idiot recommends:
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Different Trains / Electric Counterpoint
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I love minimalism, and this is my current favourite. It's a clever, simple idea, used brilliantly to create complex and moving music.
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Intersection
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Doniyan feat. Queen Ayesha
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