He mortgaged his soul to the Devil,
to get nothing in return,
but the realisation,
he was nothing more,
but
Extra
Ordinary
Talk To Me
Did I ever tell you, the first time I saw you, I fell? In love?
That we were in the making for a year and a half – you just didn’t know it? That I stayed silent, keeping my emotions in check and that it seemed like forever, and even longer? That, for 1 year, 6 months, the voices in my head, time after time, gave me reasons? Reasons to stay silent? That, I finally plucked-up the courage, to say something? That… That… That….?
The first time I saw you, words I never heard before hummed in my head. Hummmmmmmm. The first time I saw you I wrote a first poem. And a second. And then, a third. And, with all those sweet humming words, I wrote a fourth, and have not stopped humming words since. But after 1.6 years, with all those letters, and with all those words, I didn’t even know how write out your name.
I thought the moon and stars rose in your eyes. I did. I still do.
Like so many times before, times which I know like the back of my hand, you walk into the room, you grab a coffee, and you sit down next to me. And, like the back of my hand, which I know so well, the voices tell me to stay silent. I do. Once again, we sit, side-by-side, silence in-between our space. But then I hear that hummmmmmmmm. Those sweet words, those sweet humming words start to fill my head. Build, build, build. Building until I have enough words to finally ask, ‘did I ever tell you, the first time I saw you I fell? In love?’
You smile that smile that I know like the back of my hand, and reply, ‘yes, that’s why I married you.’
Ordinary Fool (from Bugsy Malone)
Sometimes I’m a storyteller using words and music.
[wpvideo ViwtiPdB ]
This is my cover version of Oridinary Fool, written by Paul Williams and featured in movie-musicial Bugsy Malone.
The song is alo featured on my album, No One is Alone (see www.austinbishop.com)
Every Day A Little Death
I’m in the pub and You Can’t Buy Me Love comes on. I know I can’t.
I sit, nursing a glass of wine for maybe two or three hours. Brooding. Thinking. I remembered the other night, while in bed, I cried. Not knowing why, but I thought of you. No thought in particular. Just a momentary flash. Lying there in the dark, I welled-up for a second, saw you were there and then fell back asleep. And now, the wine now in my head tells me I was upset because I don’t miss you.
I don’t miss much these days.
Every Day A Little Death remembered in the pub.
I wanted you to think me a genius. But I opened my mouth, letting the words fall-out one by one and in the process became a fool. You tell me to ‘go to hell’ and all I can do is laugh, which causes you to laugh. We both know I’m in hell. I love you, and I tell you so. ‘Yeah I know,’ you say. You too, are in my hell.
We still make love as if it’s our first time. You hold me, touch and caress me as you always have, turning what I think is minutes into hours. I want it to never end. I awake the next day, look in your eyes and feel like a complete failure. You feel it too, my failure. My new day in hell starts, and you come with me – to keep me company.
Back from the pub.
You are sleeping. I watch you. An exercise I have performed many times before. I stand in the dark. Watching. Listening. To you. You are just so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. I well-up. What the fuck are you doing with me? I want you to go away and find yourself some happiness. I won’t miss you, you know. I won’t. I crawl into bed, failing miserably not to wake you. You roll-over to me, kissing my back and neck. ‘I love you.’
Kissing your hands, your beautiful hands, I reply, ‘Yeah I know.’