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1. |
Citadel
05:26
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We crossed our legs
And held confessional parley,
With an existential consideration of
What’s in your head,
What’s in your dread, your elation.
I’m so full of it,
I’m so full of it.
You’re the choir and I’m the congregation.
You’re so saintly, I’m some criminal.
You’re whisper faintly at the best of times,
Dispel your mind
To make room for it,
To make room for it.
Let’s make room for this,
No pollution.
We may not be alone
When we feel our most lonely
But the smoke screen
Conceals our brighter eyes.
We shout throw down a rope
Scream please get to know me
Through the obscurity...
What does it mean to be alive?
Crush me to prove I am a butterfly.
There’s soldiers praying by our window;
Come look with me.
The views are gorgeous from our citadel.
Who knows what others do
When we are locking up.
Is it the same world?
Do the same lives bloom?
There are many shapes above us,
There are many shades of you.
Conspiracies fell back on upon us,
But we bloomed.
What does it mean to be alive?
Crush me to prove I am...
Something to fill your horror
Soething to fill your gloom
Something to fill your reason
To paint a new moon.
Something to fill your horror
Something to fill your gloom
Your gloom,
Your gloom,
your gloom.
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2. |
Waves of Nothing
05:16
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I’m shooting down
Clouds of Nothing
Through my window frame
And the succubus
Is snoozing in my bed.
Somebody’s frown
Full of shrapnel
Struck me in the head,
But I got lucky…
Because,
Face down the coffin had a pillow,
Eyes up the cemetery had light.
When did this all become so dramatic?
Never know you might wake up.
Who placed the lotion in the basket?
My skin is scared to go outside.
This tenement is so demanding that
I built a barricade last night.
I’m counting down
Waves of Nothing
Off the Western sill
Where my family has thrilled
A thousand times.
Nobody’s round
But the lover
Sleeping in my head
And my hair’s rusting…
Because,
I chose to pantomime the ocean,
It knows to heckle me right back;
With a panoramic understanding,
Swallowing the shallow thoughts which turn black.
I know I’m having trouble sleeping,
Maybe exhaustion frayed my mind.
Some poetry is so demanding that
It splits you like a butter knife.
So we’re
Reaching for the holy text and water,
Reaching for the bottle top retreat,
Reaching for the government revolver,
What does it mean?
When there’s
Rubble is thumbprint and the fable,
Rubble in the lightning and the snow,
Rubble in the post-nightmare containment,
I can’t let that go.
But look at me know,
Raving about the feeling,
As if depression’s an enlightened state of mind;
Bound to sow the seeds of innovation,
Shortly after apathy subsides.
And how does it feel,
To voice the bloody treason?
There’s something in it that is definitely sublime.
Oh no, my brain’s being unreasonable.
Well there’s
Rubble in the comfort of the cradle,
Rubble in the old school and the new,
Rubble in the eyes of the one
Undressing me across the room.
Now,
I can see the fountain and the fairground,
I can see the mountain and the street,
I can see the palace and the playground,
How sweet are my memories…
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3. |
Lonely Thought
04:22
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I’ll leave a lonely thought there
With the silk slung blades
And aromatic skies
I’ll try to recollect myself
Cooperation is hard to find,
Between alarms and the silence
You’d expect to hear
Some clarity unfold
But all that rings is repetition
I fish my feelings from the undertow, once more,
We write the definitions of ourselves
Based on the language in our cells.
And the language of contrition
Is oh too common in the bones.
But,
Maybe I’m not gonna lose.
Way at the bottom of the string,
I’m spinning.
Maybe I’m not gonna lose.
Fill up the cinema,
The second part is starting.
We’re dancing with the dealer
In our ourselves
Based on our memories of delight
And the reckoning’s beneath us
As we’re straddling the light,
Between the screams and the parties
You’d expected to hear some
Clarity unfold,
But the only time that it delivers
Is when your eyes are rolling back
Into a mind of black or gold.
So,
Maybe I’m not gonna lose
Way at the bottom of the string,
I’m spinning.
Maybe I’m not gonna lose
My thoughts are liminal,
So visual and pleasing…
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4. |
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When the fists hit the wall
Some foundation shook
In the sanctity of childhood.
When the rubble lies over the eyes,
Of the trouble-making runabout,
It shakes the neighbourhood.
And it falls on the nation,
It falls on us all.
When the arsonist favoured
The match for the pencil
They savoured the power
Of choice.
When the rescue team’s
Drained of supplies,
And the motive’s not virtuous,
They slip in the oil.
The ceiling is dripping,
The carpet is stained,
The wallpaper’s ripping,
The portrait looks strange.
The chrysalis stiffens,
Will the creature remain?
I get to know you,
You get to tread on my toes.
I get to know you,
You get to let it go.
I get to know you,
You get to be free of it.
When the fists hit the wall
Some foundation shook
In the sanctity of childhood.
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5. |
Rumination
04:24
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Is it predeterminism that inspires us not to change?
And if I flirt with repetition will I learn how to behave,
I can’t swallow their philosophy, I’ve allergies to clarity of thought,
So I’ll find my sanctity in spirits, but not the holy sort.
There’s a trick to double vision; it’s to read between the lines,
For scriptures of genetic poetry that you’re learning left behind,
Recycle your red and blue glasses, they can be turned into pills,
To stimulate dissociation from that which keeps you ill.
Half wide asleep, picturing me relatively dazed,
Evidence fading of sense and esteem; melancholy haze.
The rule book writes itself, the rule book writes itself,
But we’ll pay them off with a fiver,
It’s as subtle as a handshake in the park…
There’s a cost to rumination, it keeps playing on my mind,
In my terminal the travelators all start to rewind,
And I can’t satisfy the stewardess if I don’t make it to the gates,
But if the plane leaves with my luggage, least I’ll have shed the weight.
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August Child London, UK
August Child is a multi-instrumentalist, lyricist, and singer, based in London. His music has been featured by BBC London and Right Chord Music. His first studio EP, 'Burn For The Tide', was released by Fierce Panda Records in 2018, followed by 'Somnolence' in 2020, and the self-produced 'White Box Room' in 2021. August Child's new EP, 'Heavy In The Bloom', was released on 18th November 2023. ... more
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