Prose Is In Vogue
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Lyrics
Chapter 2) Prose is in vogue
Everyone knows that prose is in vogue
even though sharper moments are frozen in poems.

This ebbing and flowing and coming and going
are slowing our growth; there’s no focus on solos
it’s only the wholes which roll over and over
and over and over without souls.
But these books are sold to mould but they choke
so we’re cold and we’re broke; we get caught in the folds
without the poetic gold that tells the untold.
The stories are old but the poetry’s older
but shown the cold shoulder it falls like a soldier,
so books get bolder and hold us alone
and the poetic snow is scalded with prose.

Everyone knows that prose is in vogue
even though sharper moments are frozen in poems.

In these instant times with our indistinct lives
we like to find that these instant rhymes
could fight to light the most flighty minds;
that their brightness would find us, their tightness remind us
that brevity’s nice, it’s like fire in ice;
that our lives are concise: there’s no twice in time;
like a slice of right, you’ll find, is still right,
its size now appeals, it’s kite-like and free.
Our hearts and our time give us beats and lines;
signs from inside that poems won’t die
but the poetic snow is scalded with prose.

Chapter 3) To the songwriter
To the songwriter at the ‘open mic.’
We’ve been sitting here uncomfortably most of the night;
we’re your audience don’t you think that we deserve
to feel entertained instead of like our will to live’s been drained?

To the songwriter we want to feel your pain,
but once you’ve covered that theme we don’t want it again;
we’re your audience don’t you think that we deserve
to hear your lyrics clearly rather than this muffled nearly?

Sing me something I haven’t heard.
Tell me you love me in other words.
Please don’t ignore us;
sings your songs for us.

To the songwriter please open up your eyes
we know you’re in the moment but be there on your own time;
we’re your audience, don’t you think that we deserve
to watch you playing live instead of lost in your own mind?

Chapter 4) Blind to their imperfections
Yes I think that they’re okay but I don’t think they’re great;
you’ve been talking for hours and days and quoting things they’d say.
I don’t think you’re misguided but you need to look around;
everybody’s an idol when rivals aren’t let up from the ground.
You’re easy to please if you don’t want to see,
so you’re blind to their imperfections
you’re so close that you can’t detect them.

And I know that they love you because you tell me all the time;
But it’s not universal, it’s worse when you’re not on the inside.
I don’t want competition because I think we’re all the same;
Everybody’s the bad type in some light let’s all accept the blame
You’re easy to please if you don’t want to see,
so you’re blind to their imperfections
you’re so close that you can’t detect them

Chapter 5) Of love and war
I’m not the antidote to anything no more,
I can see it.
I try to make you smile as easy as before,
we’ve got to mean it.
Who knows where to go from here?
Do you know where to go from here?
Who said the answers were written in the wind?
Because I can’t hear for the storm…
of love and war
of love and war

Disconnect the carriage, leave it on the lines,
would you move it?
Pictures stay the same but people fall in time:
we can prove it.
who knows where to fall from here?
do you know where to fall from here?
who said that love was a battle to get right?
that’s why we have to fall…
in love and war
in love and war

you love me (you loathe me)
you love me (you hate me)
you love me (you love me)

Chapter 6) I’ll be there soon
I’m going on a trip, I’m never coming back;
The open doors I’m leaving with my bags unpacked.
I throw away the keys and with a heavy sigh
I climb into a sleeping car and start to drive.
I’m not really sure where I’m going
or what I’m running from
but I’ll be there soon
i’ll be there soon
don’t be alone
you’ve been there too.

Five in the morning always seemed the time to leave;
but it’s much colder here than in the films I’ve seen.
The stars and future aren’t as bright as I’d believed;
my thoughts and tears my only friends and family.
I’m not really sure where I’m going
or what I’m running from
but I’ll be there soon
i’ll be there soon
don’t be alone
you’ve been there too.

The dashboard photograph, the summer made it fade;
I try remembering how I felt at that age.
The picture looks and sees a shadow of itself.
At seven forty-five, the journey’s almost done.
I’m not really sure where I’m going
or what I’m running from
but I’ll be there soon
i’ll be there soon
don’t be alone
you’ve been there too.

Chapter 7) Nothing to win
There are, like, a thousand ways for you to listen to the things I say.
You can twist and turn my words and bind and gag me with the lies you make.
Lately I’ve been finding time to get away from what I know,
then I find I’m following the bread-crumb trail back home.
I feel like I’m fighting an army, confused without its leader, it’s absurd.
No point fighting fire with fire, I’ll just wait and get a lighter burn.
Lately I’ve been finding time to get away from what I know,
then I find I’m following the bread-crumb trail back home.

There’s nothing to take (now I’m so tired I don’t know why):
nothing to give.
There’s nothing to lose (now I’m so tired I don’t know why):
nothing to win.

I know I’m no Mr Right, can you show me someone with one?
He’s the figment of the minds of people who aren’t getting what they want.
Lately I’ve been finding time to get away from what I know,
then I find I’m following the bread-crumb trail back home.

So leave me here and walk away,
there’s nothing left for us to say.
Strangely language failed to work
because as we spoke we made things worse.

Chapter 8) Mess me up
We’re running round like blind men hanging shadows on the wall.
The sad excess of winter whiskey’s bottled in the hall.
Remember to feel sad as I forget to answer calls.
Hours, like Cathedral bells, forever take their toll.
Mess me up because I’m too clean.
Mess me up because I’m too clean.

I’m living like I lost it all with hardbacks on the shelf.
Taking time to choose the red to personalise my hell.
Keep the heaters cold so I forget I’m doing well.
Tapes and pages all my life, bound cheap enough to sell.
Mess me up because I’m too clean.
Mess me up because I’m too clean.

Chapter 9) Finding time and losing touch
(I) tried to write you a song, but the words weren’t right.
(I) walked the old town with no one; eating breakfast at night.
But I love missing you so much,
finding time and losing touch;
the happy saddest chance to prove I’m yours.
But I love missing you so much,
finding time and losing touch;
the happy saddest chance to prove I’m yours:
I love you (I do)
I love you (I do).

(I’ve) been alone to the pictures too many times.
(I) went to parties to mix, but I couldn’t take the wine.
But I love missing you so much,
finding time and losing touch;
the happy saddest chance to prove I’m yours.
But I love missing you so much,
finding time and losing touch;
the happy saddest chance to prove I’m yours:
I love you (I do)
I love you (I do).

This year’s summer song
This year’s summer song was made from lonely meals and lemonade,
from feeling lost but being paid and always leaving home.
Rusty nails stuck in my brain; being sick in country lanes;
imagining your face might change and living on my own.
But I know I’ll miss the endless summer rain;
safely wrapped in blankets of a temporary low;
caught between the hours of a time that doesn’t change;
happy just to know that I don’t know.

Splitting sides with age-old friends and praying painful hours would end;
underpants and overspent and talking over miles.
Reading dog-eared books at night and borrowed films in candlelight;
filthy jeans and eating shite; your airport-happy smile.
But I know I’ll miss the endless summer rain;
safely wrapped in blankets of a temporary low;
caught between the hours of a time that doesn’t change;
happy just to know that I don’t know.

Contributors
Findlay Mackinnon - Drums, Percussion & Harmonica
Chris Hope - Piano, Guitar, Bass & Singing
Design by Denis Ramplin
Produced and Mixed by Chris Hope at King's Court
Mastered by Steve Kitsch at Audiomaster