New lyric

[avevale_intelligencer]

Searching for a song behind
The busted sofa of my mind
I find a fading memory of you.
It makes me think of days gone by
A winter's day in mid-July
And in the clouded sky a patch of blue.

We laughed and ran across the park
Where autumn left its golden mark
And nothing was agreed between us two.
I tried to climb a chestnut tree
A squirrel smiled and said to me
"You're loved for what you are, not what you do."

And the world keeps getting stranger every day
And it never even hears the things we say
The sun makes patterns on the wall
A mystery guest has come to call
And I could face it all if you'd just stay.

Through the room of oak and pine
Detectives in a conga line
They search each other's pockets for a clue.
Amid the clamour and the mess
I read about the sea priestess
And wish I could believe that it was true.

But Fortune is a faithless jade
We lie in beds we never made
And wonder how our lives have gone askew.
And when we wake from frantic dreams
The world's exactly as it seems
And nothing underneath the sun is new.

CHORUS

Now I don't have much more to write
Though I could go on like this all night
And so, I rather tend to think, could you.
So I'll put my pad and pencil by
And go outside to scan the sky
And try to find a single patch of blue.

But this I'll say before I go;
The little that I've come to know
Amounts to not much more than half a clue.
The busted sofa yields, I fear,
A fortune cookie from last year;
"You're loved for what you are, not what you do."

CHORUS

Comments

[the-alchemist.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is absolutely beautiful! Thank you.

[catsittingstill.livejournal.com]

This is lovely. I hope you're going to put it on your album?

[zanda-myrande.livejournal.com]

That's the plan.

[pbristow.livejournal.com]

Ahw.... =:oO

[A BEAT]

[HEARTY APPLAUSE]


[EDIT:] It has a tune in my head already. That's rare. I hope it's the right one. =:o}

[zanda-myrande.livejournal.com]

Well, the only way we'll know that is if you sing it to me. Mine still hasn't come through clearly yet.

[pbristow.livejournal.com]

Well, I've just succesfully MP3'd a hideously rough and croaky version of mine (with at least one conceptually jarring fluff: "The boasted suffer? Well, yes, I suppose they do..."). But let's wait 'til yours shows up (or 'phones in officially sick) before I pollute your ComposerBrainSpace with it. =:o}

[zanda-myrande.livejournal.com]

Mine keeps trying to turn into "Hallelujah." So yours might be a better bet.

[eintx.livejournal.com]

Interesting. So did mine!

[pbristow.livejournal.com]

[RE-READS WITH THAT IN MIND]

[DELIGHTED CHCUCKLE] Yes, that very nearly works! It's those "oo" rhymes on every third line that beg for a "-ya!". =:o>

Well... mine's a bit more jaunty, and of the same musical genre as Talis' "X-Libris". It wobbles around a bit uncertainly so it needs pinning down in various places, which I usually do by humming it to myself for a couple of days while doing other things and seeing it what shape it settles into.


I've also taken, ah, certain liberties with the ending...

On your own head be it. =:o}

[zanda-myrande.livejournal.com]

Interesting, and probably good when it settles down. I know you're working all the hours gods send at the moment to maintain your jetsetting lifestyle, but if it were possible, would you be willing to come down with some chords and sing it at me to a rudimentary keyboard accompaniment?

I can't separate my tune from the Cohen, so if you're amenable there could be a co-credit in this...

[pbristow.livejournal.com]

[SPENDS 3 DAYS PREVARICATING]

A co-credit? Am I ready for that?

I mean... A co-credit... with *ZANDER*...?

Oh my...

[BITES BOTTOM LIP AND HUGS IT TIGHT]

[pocketnaomi.livejournal.com]

Oh wow.

But then, I say that about almost everything you write.

[dickgloucester.livejournal.com]

I absolutely love this. And once there is a tune, I want to sing it too.

Well, when the dratted microbes let me have a voice back.