Tag: David

How to Say Goodbye

Took you down to the High Road
Where I’d taken you once before
Kissed you and left you crying
There behind the nursery door

From the day our children are born
Until the day we die
We keep on learning to let go
And how to say goodbye

Took you down to the station
Waited with you for a train
A kiss and a wave from the platform
Saw you homeward bound again

Took you in from the car
Walked you down the aisle
Kissed you goodbye at the reception
Once more you left me, with a smile

Walk me down to the station
Time that I went home again
Blow me a kiss from the platform to warm
An old man’s heart on the train

from Strictly Off The Record, released October 10, 2021
Words & music by David A. Harley. Acoustic guitar and vocal by David A. Harley.

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Ten Percent Blues

Got a seat facing the engine
So I don’t have to face where I’ve been
Luggage on the rack, no reason to look back
At all my wrecked and reckless vagrant dreams
No more bright lights, no more white lines
Or crashing in the back of the van
No more hustling small-time gigs
I guess time has beaten the band

No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home

Got a ticket to take me to tomorrow
It can’t be worse than today
So driver, take me home and don’t spare the horsepower
I’m on a ten year holiday
No more missed chances and chickenfeed advances
Cold chips in the back of the van
No more blown tires and fuses, no more broken promises
Time has beaten the band

No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home

No more spotlights, no more ups and downers
Absolutely no stage fright
No more superstar fantasies
From today I’m strictly 9-5
No more infighting, no more moonlighting
No more one-night stands
All along while the band was beating time
I guess time was beating the band

No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home

from Swan Songs, released June 28, 2023
Words, music, guitar, resonator guitar and vocal by David A. Harley.

© all rights reserved

Paper City

I woke up with my mind’s eye facing your direction:
I looked hard and I saw you needed help.
You’re choking on paper and tape and legislation,
But you can’t produce one thing to help yourself.

(Ch.) Paper city at the heart of a paper empire:
You’ve got strings to pull, you’ve got wires all over the earth.
Sky-climbing parasite, concrete and paper jungle,
You’ve got money to burn, but I know you’d rather freeze to death.

You’ve got stacks of stocks and shares and bonds:
You’ve got telephone and telex, databank and dateline too.
But you can’t produce as much as one lead pencil,
Or a bar of soap, or a rubber band to pull you through.

The media twitch at the flash of a freemason’s handshake:
Speeches are made and the punters gather round;
Paper politicians and faceless company men,
Taking the pulse of an ailing paper pound.

I bet you know just what you’re worth on paper:
When the market crumbles, what will that do to you?
So many cold people don’t own the earth they lie in:
Will you be all right in your green-lined paper tomb?

Paper city at the heart of a bankrupt empire:
Your towers get higher as your assets hit new lows.
Nose-diving parasite, I wouldn’t mind you dying,
But you’ll take so many with you when you go.

from Swan Songs, released June 28, 2023
Guitar, slide guitar, vocals, words and music by David A. Harley.

© all rights reserved

Death of a Marriage (words & music by David A. Harley)

The blinds are down, the locks are changed,
His cases packed and sent:
Some boxes for collection gather dust.
They’re shaking hands like strangers – that’s all that either dares:
It’s just the death of a marriage and there’s no room left for trust.

The bedroom they shared is advertised to let,
And she’s moved in with the kids.
He’s found himself a bedsit, it’s handy for his job,
But it’s the death of a marriage that was too long on the skids.

He spends a lot of time alone, because the maintenance is crippling
And he hasn’t got the bread to do the town:
He’s restless and confused, and not too certain what he wants,
Feeling guilty, ‘cause he knows he’s let her down.

She’s anxious and she’s angry, and the kids are a pain:
They miss their dad, and mum gets upset easily.
She rings from time to time, and they talk about her problems:
She says he has it easy, and of course he disagrees.

Sometimes they meet for a lunchtime drink:
He babysits, and sometimes takes the kids out for the day.
They both see other people, but they’re scared to get involved:
They’ve both been hurt too much already, and there isn’t much to say.

Sometimes, almost by chance, they spend the night together,
And wonder how they managed on their own,
But sooner or later the arguments take over:
It’s just a dying marriage that refuses to lie down.

They live day-to-day with their crises and neuroses:
Making some sort of adjustment, as best they can they cope,
Huddled round the embers of the love that passed between them,
They see each other growing older, and they’re learning not to hope.

The blinds are down, the locks are changed,
His cases packed and sent:
Some boxes for collection gather dust.
They wave goodbye like strangers – that’s all that either dares:
It’s just the death of a marriage and there’s no room left for trust.

Reel4Transfer for recovering usable tracks from the Centre Sound tapes – which had suffered deterioration from ‘sticky shed syndrome’ – and transferring them to digital media.

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Coasting (1983)

The nights pass slowly, but they pass:
The days are paper-thin.
Life goes on much as usual:
Some games I lose, some I win.
Sometimes I feel that I’m sleepwalking
Through the streets of this grey city,
But then, it’s only been a month or two.
It’s not the first time that I’ve coasted
Through the routine chores of living
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…

Today I walked in sunlight though the wind blew cold
Through my coat:
I thought about the coming spring, and I swear somewhere
I felt a twinge of hope.
I don’t expect to hear from you. I guess that’s how it should be:
There’s no point in chasing dreams that won’t come true.
It’s not the first time that I’ve coasted through the aftermath of loving
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…

Sometimes I take a weekend walk by these muddy city shores
And old man river talks to me
But I can’t quite understand: my feet stay locked to the dry land
So he drifts on with the seasons out to sea

The weeks pass slowly but they pass
And I drift from phase to phase.
I’m sick of wishing you were here to help me
Through these bleak and restless days.
Sometimes I think I’m waking into another nightmare,
But it passes, as these feelings often do.
It’s not the first time I’ve been lonely, nor the first time I’ve been left,
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…

Reel4Transfer for recovering usable tracks from the Centre Sound tapes – which had suffered deterioration from ‘sticky shed syndrome’ – and transferring them to digital media.

© all rights reserved