David Heavenor: Music

Written for someone I met in Greatham in Hampshire who was fighting with his inner demons and put me in mind of the haunted character in Kafka's The Trial. My attempts to translate his seemingly non sensical images and preoccupations.

MEMORY BLED BACK

You seem to far removed from what's going on
In the world you live with the people you cross
You seem so far removed even though you're so young
The way you watch your journey with such a sense of loss
No matter what the routine, no matter what the escape
The shrouds still cling, you can't even begin
You can't satisfy this stark consciousness
Of the live butterfly stuck fast on a pin.



You seem to far removed from what's in your mind
What do you hold back? What do you select to relate?
To whom do you cry when there's no one at home
And no traveler comes to loosen the gate
You've only an inkling that you should care
But nothing strikes to spark the flame
You're just a memory, a memory bled back
To a wanted poster but they haven't printed a name


She walks out the door and doesn’t look back
And you haven’t the nerve to be more than you live
You can't call out for your words snap like bones
Why should she turn back if you've nothing to give
And they call it madness, a sign of the times
But you can't run to them for their hearts don't feel
And you know you're not alone for you meet other eyes
You can only perceive, you know you can't heal.


But the chill hand on your heart is the beauty you find
The printing of storms in the clay of the sand
And you want to run free and love what you see
But your boat has been wrecked and you feel guilt's in your hands
And you want to rage at the powers so concealed
But your dreams are blocked to reveal their acts
For everyone decides just how they like
The jury's got drunk and the judge has just cracked




Greatham