The dust of time

by John Meed

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Moelfre Hill 03:55
High on Moelfre Hill The seasons come and go Generations built Solid walls of stone And they worked and prayed Among these ancient fields And watched as children played High on Moelfre Hill Was it on Moelfre Hill That all the hurt began? Or did it wait until You took your chance and ran? As if a child could learn What joys and sorrows fill The road of no return Away from Moelfre Hill Whatever roads we travel, whatever paths we tread One day comes a twitch upon the thread And what coincidence or what strange design Has brought us here at this place and time? On Moelfre Hill we play These sweet resistance songs On Bastille Day As if the walls were gone As if our hearts could talk As if our love could still The very ghosts that walk The paths of Moelfre Hill Oh, Moelfre Hill
I waited for you on the rue Mouffetard I walked down the hill past the cafés and markets To the Place St Médard Among the friends shaking hands After work in a bar I ordered a beer and I thought of the past Of the rue Mouffetard Oh, rue Mouffetard When the river still flowed Through the tannery yards There was blood on the stones of the rue Mouffetard Another barricade fell, Another dreamer was lost Another symbol crashed, burned, Flashed and turned into dust Oh, rue Mouffetard Now those big city lights seem so far away Those big city dreams And the grand boulevards And all those big ideas, do they matter today? Do they still shine a light Down the rue Mouffetard? Did they change everything or nothing at all For the tourists, the students, The beggar asleep on the wall? Did they change who I am? Did they change who you are? As we walk away, up the rue Mouffetard? Oh, rue Mouffetard
Flossie said to me, sometimes it seems Like summer’s never coming Stuck behind your window Listen to the wind blow Watch the water running But when the sun breaks through There’s nothing you can do It only takes just one day You thrown open the door, forget what went before When every day was Sunday Marie said she thought her straw was far too short Her sand too swiftly running The tide was too far out She said she’d come to doubt That love was ever coming But when lightning strikes It takes you by surprise And it leaves you there to wonder How you ever felt so low, the time went by so slow And every day was Sunday Sometimes seems to me that this is what will be And change is never coming Then one day you wake, you feel your world just shake Walk out through the rubble And everything that’s gone, all that’s still to come Is so deliciously uncertain Will every day be clothed in bramble or in rose And will every day be Sunday?
Sirocco 03:04
Sudden wave breaks on the shore Breeze blows in from Morocco Desert dust on my bedroom floor Blown in by the sirocco Sirocco Temperature rises and now it begins Leaves blow and shutters clack No escaping the heat and the wind A child cries and a parent cracks No matter which way the wind blows We all live with what the wind takes Summer sun and winter snow The joy and the heartache
Tenderness 03:41
If sometimes I may seem less present If sometimes I may be harder to find I won’t be trying to hurt you Or to be unkind For if tenderness counts for anything And if we can reach out over the abyss And if what we have now is everything Remember this Look for reflection in the water Listen to the bird that’s in the hand And if you should need assistance I’ll be doing all I can For if tenderness counts for anything And if we can reach out over the abyss And if what we have now is everything Remember this Only if you’re bleeding, only if you cry Only when you’re dreaming, only when you try For if tenderness counts for anything And if we can reach out over the abyss And if what we have now is everything Remember this
October wind 03:46
I met her by the riverside She gave to me a wheelchair smile Basking in the February sun As if the past and winter both were gone I was into counting and to sums And things that needed to be done And things I didn’t need to know Down where the rivers flow She told me of the people she had known Friends and lovers now long gone Children after children who had flown Along life’s open road She told me of the splendours she had seen The darker moments in between And how none of us is what we might have been Down where the river flowed The poets and the artists who were here The writers and the philosophers Their words may remain or disappear And no-one, no-one ever really knows I came back with the first October wind The wheelchair lying by the bend And gentle laughter echoing Down where the river flows
Number 2 Clarement, not far from the station Is a place you don’t notice at all But when the wind blows there’s a breath from the Bosphorus A taste of old Istanbul Wherever I wander, wherever I raom Wherever I might have been There is good food and company, good wine and music At Leo’s party machine From Italy, Serbia, Austria, France Morocco, and Ukraine From Frieberg to Freetown, from old to new Amsterdam From Rio and Rochdale they came A United Nations, bound by the charter That friendship is all that we need And that nobody’s glass should be ever half empty At Leo’s party machine Now I’m growing older, my hair has turned grey And I’m sometimes in bed by half ten And I’ve seen such deception, corruption and greed And I wonder where it’s going to end Leo moved back to his home by the Bosphorus But tonight we gather again For friendships like these can never grow old At Leo’s party machine
The dust of time It settles on us all There is no hiding Under the skin, behind the wall Whether you sleep on a park bench Or in a penthouse fine Makes no difference To the dust of time The dust of time It settles on the artist’s hand It mingles with The colours and the sand The Mona Lisa Or the graffiti sign They mean nothing Without the dust of time The dust of time It launched a thousand ships After the kiss It lingers on the lover’s lips After the dance The music and the wine You wake unravelled Beside the dust of time And now my fingers They dance among the dust I sing my songs Of oxygen and rust I search this land of melody and rhyme My inspiration, the dust of time
Those hippies were crazy But they sure knew what to drive Got myself a Volkswagen camper van From 1965 Going to drive over the A65 Green on the outside Purple on the inside Spend the night by the lakeside In my camper van I sing this song for Amanda and Kevin They drove their camper van up onto Otley Chevin Just to spend the night a little closer to heaven And it was cold on the outside Hot on the inside Take a walk on the wild side In my camper van It must be some kind of midlife crisis But half my friends drive around in mobile paradises Onboard showers and a comfortable mattress No more steamy nights under leaky canvass We drive these roads without a care Eating our Asda apples and our Tesco pears And voting for Boris, or Cameron or Blair Because they’re shiny on the outside Rotten on the inside Drive them all of the cliff side In my camper van
The Gandhi 03:42


released November 30, 2013


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