1. |
Need Wood
02:56
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Ready to call it off
Ready to call it here
Let it call it out
Only to leave it here
Ready to call it off
Ready to call it here
What do you call this now?
You’ve only to make it clear.
Ready to call it off
Ready call it here
What’s with the worried hand?
If only you’d made it…
Now you made up you mind
It didn’t always have to be
Ready to call it off
Ready to call it here
Use has all dried out
So why is it raining here?
Ready to call it out
Ready to call it clear
Shielding our eyes with our hands
If only we’d made it…
Now you made up you mind
It didn’t always have to…
Ready to whore it out
Ready to call it here
Or get up and walk out
Only to make it clear
Ready for this now
Ready for this here
Foundations in the sands
Why did we leave it here?
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2. |
Big Night
03:02
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These steps are showing legs
A thought we just couldn’t hold
Hadn’t rained in 50 days but
Piece by piece is what we were told
And “I’ll fix him”, yeah,
That’s what she said
Thoughtless, leaderless & dumb
Broken & dumb
Broken and
What was it your mother said?
Old dogs, old postmen
We’re tired of licking stamps with
Nowhere to send them
She hitched up her skirt
And climbed into bed
Strung up, tapped out, I’m done
Broken & dumb
Broken and dumb
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3. |
Last Chance
02:50
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Too drunk to sleep
The words have come and gone
Waiting to live
hoping to die all in one
Days with rough edges
Days that cry all night long
Moments of grief for aging
So tired and torn
Stop spreading the news
It’s a wonder what we had
Got gust I can’t use
Counting my sweet nothings
I waited for you
Broken hands, tired shoes
A brand new bench
Perched on one end, I’m outdoors
Break and proceed
Got blood on my knees, it’s summer
Crumbs round your mouth
Stained walls on the inside out
Door swings aside
as the world turned to find out
Stop spreading the news
It’s a wonder what we had
Got gust I can’t use
Counting my sweet nothings
I waited for you
Broken hands, tired shoes
Stop spreading the news
Pissing out charred dirge
Nothing had been kept
Counting my sweet nothings
I waited for you
Broken hands, tired shoes
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4. |
Catch Up
05:04
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Two dots in the frame
Playing catch up
Mud for their shoes
Waiting feet to fall
Brushes his arms wipes the blood away
Grew up wishing she was old
She throws her bag into the road
Waits for a smile
But summer is long gone
Clocks have gone back
It’s getting cold
Such a stupid thing
What a mess they’ve made
He could almost understand
He was once young
A turtle in this chase
Sat in silence
Put a bullet in his gut
As he tried to run
She started to scream
“What have you done?
What have you done?”
And there’s always something
that you can never plan for
And there’s always something
that you can never plan for
He tries to catch his breath
It soon won’t be his
There’s an end in sight
She puts her hand on him
Moves to take the wheel
A kiss for his lips
But teeth are locked with blood
“I must see this through”
Every line rehearsed
Their story contrived
What’s left to do?
Just as he thought
Meeting the trail
Dust begins to dance
Foot to the floor
The sun is crisp and clean
Held in his palm
Sees the chance and takes a shot
Well they spin and they turn
It could not survive
Wheels in the sky
Were still trying to drive.
And there’s always something
And there’s always something
He steps to his feet
Nothing’s moving
The air bites and cries
For a tale of sound
Looks back at the road
But it’s empty
Must’ve flew twenty feet
At least they’ll have that story to tell
In the path a bag full of notes
Spills out its guts
“Can’t spend this in hell”
And there’s always something
And there’s always something
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My Grey Horse Stratford Upon Avon, UK
My Grey Horse was formed of 5 friends who spent 5 years making music that anchored their
existence.
We're really proud of these records but now it makes sense to move on.
Thanks to anybody who listened to our stuff, bought our records, came to shows or supported us in anyway over the years: we couldn't be more grateful. You've been incredible.
Love from,
Pete, John, Oobah, Joe and Tom.
-dec 16
... more
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