1. |
On Drifting Threads
01:46
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Running along the rail track,
into a pitch black tunnel.
Watching the train's tail lights,
fade into the distance.
Deafening waves of smoke,
crash against the walls.
Drowning in the air.
What kind of place is nowhere?
Waiting on another platform,
by the old cathedral.
Watching a trail of lanterns,
fade into the distance.
Reminded of your childhood,
when you hid by the church walls.
All of time it stood still there.
What kind of place is nowhere?
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2. |
Making Noises
05:04
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Morning falls,
through the clouds of winter.
Upon the thorns,
where we laid those years.
Our schools and homes,
covered us in splinters.
The lines of chalk,
are now turning round like spheres.
Skipping the barriers,
out of step with the rest.
Making up plans,
and all this folly.
Breaking our backs,
to write these stories.
Making no sense.
We hold our breath,
and then count the seconds.
Put on our dress,
whilst the horses wait.
A game of chess,
played behind net curtains.
No pieces left,
just a memory that stains.
From the suburbs we fled,
out of step with the rest.
Making up plans,
and all this folly.
Breaking our backs,
to write these stories.
Making no sense.
We all woke up,
to something that,
we never wanted to be a part of but,
we played out parts,
put on our masks,
and with hammers and strings we made our marks,
making noises.
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3. |
Asylum
02:36
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I'm a waste,
I'm a waste,
I'm a waste away,
within these walls,
waiting for the curtain call.
Oh what a place,
what a place,
for my darkest day,
comparable,
to being pulled apart by horse.
I'll betray,
I'll betray,
I'll betray myself,
for nothing more,
than crumbs you left upon the floor.
Take the strain,
take the strain,
take the sanctuary.
What saving grace lays waiting at asylum's door?
The day the light turned into fire.
The day the fire turned into ice.
The day the ice turned into light.
What did it herald in,
in your asylum?
All this sin,
all the sin,
all this sympathy,
Their callous smiles,
baiting me from every corner.
Broken limbs,
broken bones,
knotted by the weeds.
It's fucking vile,
the pungent stench of stagnant water.
Violent stings,
violent stings,
of electricity.
Lost streams of bile,
pulsing deep beneath this armour.
Like the hymn,
like the hymn,
that brought me to my knees.
Each last denial,
would lead up to asylum's door.
The day the light turned into fire.
The day the fire turned into ice.
The day the ice turned into light.
What did it herald in
in your asylum?
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4. |
Harbingers Of Love
02:40
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Maybe she'll wake in a state of eternal grace.
Shedding her wings just to walk through the earthly cage.
But the devils in your head said run now run now,
you've got to run away.
And the angels on the sand said come down come down,
it's time to stake a claim.
Darling their watching you.
Do you want them to?
Maybe she'll wait for the suns to align again.
Charting their course as her axial tilts away.
But the devils in your head said fall down fall down,
upon the astrolabe.
And the angels on the sand said come down come down,
that time will come again.
Darling their haunting you.
Do you want them to?
Maybe they'll finally leave her for pity's sake,
Leave her to fend off the pride in the lion's den.
But the devils in your head said shut out shut out,
the one who calls your name.
And the angels on the sand said come down come down,
from the columns where they prey.
Darling their taunting you.
Do you want them to?
Swirling around your head.
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5. |
Of This Sanctuary
02:43
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We go swimming out to where the ocean lies.
Passed the jellyfish upon a bed of light.
Watched the messengers recoil and then unwind.
As our heartbeats slowly turn into a tide.
Today we heard a voice,
that banished us,
beyond out homes above the trees.
Like scattered leaves,
washed out to sea,
our bodies laid upon the alter.
Before the tide went out,
we lift our oars,
and drove them deep beneath the waves.
From kings to slaves,
from slaves to apes,
from apes to snakes upon the water.
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6. |
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In 729,
two comets encircled round the sun.
One by day and one by night,
to the terror of everyone.
This foreboding did signify,
that the earth was threatened with her doom.
And so they carried their flaming light,
across the heavens towards this ruin.
On the one hand we left you nothing.
On the other St Ives and Tunbridge.
And time is like a sparrow's flight,
through this house and through this marble hall.
A haven from the realms outside,
where raging winter storms.
But he vanishes from sight,
from the moment he passed through the door.
And so we grasp what's to be our lives,
or went before we know nothing at all.
Sometimes their distance voices,
lure me out of the darkness.
Whilst marching by his army's side, (Boadicea)
Caesar's ships were dashed against the shore. (Albion)
40 vessels wrecked by the tide, (Pendragon)
then defeated by british hordes.
But in the second wave of flight, (from Hadrian)
he proceeded along the fallen thames. (to Antonine)
Driving stakes by the river's side, (in this wasteland)
in what remained of the last defence.
The water that gave us courage,
upon which we built our cities,
destroy those pillars.
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7. |
From Circa Kings
03:10
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I'm plagued,
i'm plagued i'm plagued i'm plagued.
Buried in the garden.
Buried in the cemetery.
Buried in the grave.
And still,
I can't escape,
from that what i have become,
prisoner of Albion,
praying to be saved.
On ancient ground,
we hang from cages.
Is nothing sacred now?
Makes me feel I'm plagued,
i'm plagued i'm plagued i'm plagued.
Buried in the garden,
Buried in the cemetery,
Buried in the grave.
And still,
i can't escape,
from the hands that drag me down,
far below the underground,
way beyond the gates.
Ten thousand miles,
over this wasteland,
kings held this sceptred isle a while.
It'll be better when you're buried.
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8. |
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In the garden there's a lay line.
Serpentine,
drawn across the sunlight.
Seeing darkness through our new eyes.
Clementine,
glisten like a dragonfly.
Drowning in elixir.
The celestial,
slipping beneath.
Falling way too deep.
Some are buried beneath white tide,
Tinderbine,
woven like a wind chime.
Others stay awake their past lives,
intertwined.
Clementine,
clothe herself in golden fire.
Drowning in elixir.
The celestial,
slipping beneath.
Falling way too deep.
Even after the flood.
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9. |
Cello Pool
02:12
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10. |
Aerodrome - Paraffin
02:00
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Down by the gallon,
each barrel drum befalls you.
One hundred cannons,
alight the sky with fireworks.
Paraffin lights the city,
Paraffin lights the stars,
Paraffin lights your heart.
This hollowed lantern,
that pierces incandescent.
Will leave us standing,
against the Hebridean wall.
Paraffin lights the city,
Paraffin lights the stars,
Paraffin lights your heart.
These burning talons,
spit embers into darkness.
As little dragons,
play chase with all the firelakes
Paraffin lights the city,
Paraffin lights the stars,
Paraffin lights your heart.
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11. |
Belles Of East London
02:57
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In silence,
those unheard words,
raining like the church bells did,
calling out the dead.
A choir,
keeps singing their name,
tolling whilst the heavens flame,
oh this echoing.
Oranges and lemons,
say the bells of St Helens.
Bulls eyes and targets,
say the bells of St Margrets.
In silence ,
those unheard words,
written by the guilds and leagues,
whist the city sleeps.
Through sirens,
like bells in the sky,
from pentecost to new year's eve,
oh this echoing.
Oranges and lemons,
say the bells of St Helens,
Halfpence and farthings,
say the bells of St Martins.
And when will u pay me,
say the bells of Old Bailey?
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12. |
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Whisps of the Cirrus.
Sheets of the Stratus.
Beneath the Cumulus.
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13. |
Last Supper
04:00
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The clans.
The choirs.
The flags.
The fires.
The gates.
The ghosts.
The boats.
The bones.
At the banqueting table,
feasting with the weasels and crows.
Is it any wonder that my cup doth overflow?
To our friends dearly departed.
The shields.
The shores.
The wheels.
The wars.
The lakes.
The lambs.
The drapes.
The damns,
In her majesty's stable,
sleeping with the fawns and the goats.
Is it any wonder that my cup doth overflow?
To our friends dearly departed.
My friends we've come so far,
just to be dancing in masks,
though we've fallen at the last,
the last supper.
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14. |
The White Falcon
11:29
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Burning horses,
turn the wheels,
passed the fortress,
highest steeple.
Running.
In the garden,
before the city gates,
departed.
Stole a march,
stormed the palace.
Coat of arms,
cloaked in madness.
Drumming.
Wicker godess,
that crawls upon the earth,
as darkness
returns.
---
At the king's landing stage,
the heads of stone beasts,
swim in the water.
And so do their own shapes,
shapes of gentlemen,
their forms broken by ripples.
And the anointed queen,
flickering,
like a flame in a glass.
On the river breeze,
summer still weeks,
away.
We're bringing up the bodies.
As the barge moors at the gate,
No human face,
just the flap of raven's wings.
She is on her hands and knees,
on the cobbles,
her head thrown back wailing.
(pause)
These are days of omens,
and portents,
and queen locked in a tower.
Ghosts are glimpsed in doorways,
a bell rings itself,
touched by no human hand.
A woman pushes through the crowd,
at his gate,
grabbing at his horse.
Before guards force her away,
she shouts at him,
'what a man is the king?'
We're bringing up the bodies
---
Wake,
though we wake to see our bodies weighed down
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R.A.Kane UK
My piano driven music fuses the sounds of contemporary indie folk with the rich textures of shoegazing.
For more information about me, including a press pack, please email: r.a.kane@hotmail.co.uk.
R.A.Kane recommends:
my first go at producing an album
go to album
Exit Metropolis E.P.
by Digital Moth
my first solo project...
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