LYRIC: How Do You Ignore? (August 2025)

How do you ignore a genocide?

(Practice, man, practice)

This isn’t the first

And it won’t be the last

Our lives bathed in blood

That we try not to think about

How do you ignore the climate crisis?

(Practice, man, practice)

We’ve been in trouble

Since before I was born

The future a precipice

We try not to think about

Just try not to think about it

We try not to think about

How do you ignore this creeping fascism?

(Practice, man, practice)

Swastikas carved

Into primary school desks

Just everyday terrors

We try not to think about

How do you ignore how fucked up everything is?

(Practice, man, practice)

The problems never change

It’s a feature not a bug

Of the unjust structures

That we try not to think about

Just try not to think about it

We try not to think about

What if we thought about it?

What if we stopped ignoring?

Did more than just post about it?

Did more than just empty warnings?

Well how would we sleep at night?

Where would all the fun be then?

We can’t stop ignoring!

So just try not to think about it

How do you ignore a genocide?

How do you ignore the climate crisis?

How do you ignore this creeping fascism?

How do you ignore how fucked up everything is?

We just try not to think about it

LYRIC: The Actor, The Cello, and the Dark, Dark Cloud (July 2025)

This one’s really more of a poem, as the song is spoken word, but hey — it counts:

I sat and watched a fallen childhood hero

sincerely sing and speak from literature,

over cello, violin, and piano

in Birmingham’s Symphony Hall.

It had seemed so funny as a kid

to see Venkman hitting on Dana

in her haunted New York apartment.

But these days it just reads like harassment.

Another woman’s life made worse

By an entitled man without boundaries.

But it’s still my favourite film.

Ray’s parents left him that house; he was born there!

Meanwhile my grandmother lived and died in Dana Barrett’s building:

55 Central Park West.

If there are ghosts, she might still dwell in the service elevator

where she fell dead after brunch at Tavern on the Green.

The same place the Keymaster, Vince Clortho,

invaded the body of Louis Tulley.

Another entitled man in violation of bodily boundaries,

which I think about as I try and square my enjoyment of the actor,

singing covers of Tom Waits and Sondheim,

with the circle of his alleged wrongdoing.

What else do you expect from a vegetarian

who knows he probably should be vegan

but is too lazy to do all that cooking and food prep?

The world is much more grey

than it was ever black or white.

A reference to Michael Jackson,

perhaps,

who I occasionally also still listen to,

although I know I shouldn’t.

Ghostbusters was the first movie I fell in love with,

and Thriller the first album.

My grandmother,

the one who died in Spook Central,

and who might have made my mother’s life hell sometimes,

used to send me clippings

every time Jackson was mentioned in the papers.

She didn’t know who he was!

Was more into classical opera than the King of Pop.

But she knew her grandson loved him,

and that was enough.

Just as I still loved my grandmother,

no matter what my mother’s feelings.

Whatever the actor might, or might not, have done,

his performance was beautiful that night in Birmingham,

on the same stage where,

the year of its grand opening,

my grandmother had travelled from America to take us,

unwillingly,

to see the CBSO.

My only memory was of Sir Simon Rattle’s

wild and wonderful hair.

All these years later,

I would give anything to watch that concert I ignored again,

and spend one more precious evening with my gran.

But instead I get my favourite ghostbuster,

putting a little love in my heart.

He gave me a rose as he took his bows,

which sits now drying in a cupboard.

An artefact of a memory

I didn’t realise how much I’d cherish

when I guiltily bought the ticket,

and felt somehow like I shouldn’t.

LYRIC: The Poverty of Low Expectations (June 2025)

An education is a battle

Fought each day against our schools

In the gaps between the classrooms

In the gaps between the rules

And what is learned cannot be tested

At your isolated desks

In coercive competition

In examination death

The real assessment comes from living

Yes living lives much better than

The lives they had timetabled for you

Yes living lives against the plan

LYRIC: Ballad of an Aging Punk with a Keyboard (May 2025)

Fingers stained black again

Those fanzines marked me

in more ways than one

Filled my head with strange ideas

Like anyone can have a voice

Do things for passion, not for pay

Create the worlds you want to see

And champion all the things that you love

Here’s three chords now start a band

And when the band breaks up

Just keep on Doing It Yourself

Doing It Yourself

Bands nobody heard of

Except all of us that had

Records shipped from bedroom distros

To ears all over the world

Singing:

We accept you one of us

No more gatekeepers of talent

Ability in the beholder’s eye

Make your own kind of noise

Here’s three chords now start a band

And when the band breaks up

Just keep on Doing It Yourself

Doing It Yourself

This life’s not like the pop songs

This life’s an ugly mess

This life’s not perfect plastic

This life’s what we protest

Re-used envelopes through the door

Packing tape and thick black marker

Missives of hope from better worlds

That truly saved my life

Don’t let the bastards grind you down

Call out whatever needs calling out

And when the bullshit gets too much

You’ve got to get in the fucking van

Here’s three chords now start a band

And when the band breaks up

Just keep on Doing It Yourself

Doing It Yourself

LYRIC: I’m Alright, We’re OK (April 2025)

It’s not all depression and despair

I like to laugh as much as anyone

Not the wild-eyed cackle of the lost and deranged

But sitcom sofa chuckles

The joy of silly voices

Goofy comedy songs

I sing around the house

To amuse my wife and cat

I like to go on walks to pretty places

see the trees and mountains

Hills and lakes

With my favourite person in the world

That said

It’s not like everyday is perfect

I’m alright

We’re okay

There is so much to be thankful for

Weekends we watch the football

In between too many hours

of professional wrestling and sometimes baseball

My music is misinformation

Showing only my bleakest self

While behind the lyric sheet

contentment reigns

My otherwise wonderful life

Causes me no urgent creative crisis

I tend to write most of my songs when I feel down

That said

It’s not like everyday is perfect

I’m alright

We’re okay

There is so much to be thankful for

That said

It’s not like everyday is perfect

But mostly it’s okay

I read a lot and listen to music

Write my songs and play my bass guitar

Everyday is perfect

I’m alright

We’re okay

There is so much to be thankful for

LYRIC: The World’s Not Worth Saving Anymore (March 2025)

I miss the world I used to know

Though it’s a world I used to hate

For though a better world seemed far away

I never doubted it’s our fate

Today it’s hope that seems far away

I look around and blink my eyes

I miss the bad old times we’ve lost

I miss that world I once despised

Because

The world’s not worth saving any more

I think of all the things we learned

How quickly it was thrown away

I once believed we’d found the path

But sadly that was yesterday

Because

The world’s not worth saving any more

LYRIC: The Worst is Not (Feb 2025)

I’m feeling crazy, feeling panicked, feeling very very scared

This time is not like the last time

My head it felt so better when I had it buried under sand

They say that ignorance is bliss

A broken clock will turn out to be right at least two times a day

Still you don’t believe the boy who cried out wolf

The worst is not,

So long as WE

can say

‘this is

the worst’

The monster in the closet isn’t just some naive childhood fear

Sometimes those burning eyes are real

As much as I would like to make believe that things will be alright

I know sometimes that they are not

Every day the world is full of many other tragic tales

of people far worse off than me

The worst is not,

So long as WE

can say

‘this is

the worst’

This

Is not

The worst

This

Is not

The worst

LYRIC: Right Now (Jan 2025)

We are not all journalists

Despite the tempting sound of this

We have no column and no beat

No urgent deadlines to meet

So why do all our phones go ping

With every alert that comes in?

Why do we interrupt our lives

To keep on top of their headlines?

Why all the urgency?

Need for immediacy?

To see as soon as we can see?

All the latest tragedies?

Do

We really

Need to know

RIGHT NOW?

Keep up with the conversation

Hot takes which divide a nation

The quickest comments get liked first

Encourage us to be our worst

They said become the media

And we did, losing who we were

Hijacked the discourse way off course

We need a digital divorce

Why all the urgency?

Need for immediacy?

To see as soon as we can see?

All the latest tragedies?

Do

We really

Need to know

RIGHT NOW?

LYRIC: What Might Blossom

I work within the gaps
One mind at a time
Seeds sown into the dark
On ground infertile and malign
 
My progress rate is slow
And mostly I’ll never know
If what I’ve sown has taken root
If what I’ve sown will even grow
 
And though it likely will take more than my lifetime to yield the harvest
I’m nourished by the thought of what might blossom after I am gone regardless
 
The world that’s always been
Sometimes it looks the other way
That’s when I find we can slip in
And try to show another way

I am the change I want to see
A living elevator pitch
There’s something’s broken underneath
But it is something we can fix

And though it likely will take more than my lifetime to yield the harvest
I’m nourished by the thought of what might blossom after I am gone regardless
Other worlds than these are possible, and we just have to show them
And recognise that they’re worth fighting for even if we won’t live to know them

LYRIC: Too

Too many observations

Too many notebooks filled

Too many creative outlets

Too many darlings killed

Too many lyrics sang to no one

Too many words unread

Too many ideas unwanted

Too much repeating what I said

Too much repeating what I said

Too free to be worth buying

Too hard a friend to keep

Too blunt in conversation

Too much the grandson of a priest

Too canary in the coal mine

Too much the spectre at the feast

Too straightedge for your parties

Too many questions probing deep

Too many questions probing deep

Too broken to get better

Too hopeful for despair

Too jaded by the bullshit

Too stubborn not to care

Too stubborn not to care

Too lacking references and mentors

Too few accomplishments of note

Too many other candidates competing

Too many of us stuck in the same boat

Too out of practice for the journals

Too everyday and imprecise

Too radical to take a chance on

Too much lost to a different life

Too much lost to a different life

Too honest for the classroom

Too much daily mental toll

Too few visions of what comes after

Too much losing of my soul

There’s too much losing of my soul  

Too much damage to stay longer

Too many things this system lacks

Too many structural complications

Too many years I won’t get back

Too many reasons for inaction

Too much I’ve sweat and too much I have have bled

Too used to comfort and to routine

Too easy staying ‘til I’m dead

To whom it may concern

Too often now I feel such dread

Too many sleepless nights

Too much repeating what I said

Too much repeating what I said

LYRIC: Stay Alert

Stay alert

Stay alert

Incompetence is coming for our life

Stay alert

Stay alert

To how they’re making us a sacrifice

Stay alert to their propaganda

Bold faced lies told with fake candour

In the name of ideology

Stay alert to manipulation

Distortion of the situation

Put us at risk for their economy 

Stay alert

Stay alert

To how the world transformed so easily

Stay alert

Stay alert

To all they do not want for us to see

Stay alert to the latest branding

Designed to twist our understanding

Repeat their slogan in our Twitter feed

Stay alert: their green and yellow warning

Suddenly the truth is dawning

They do not give a shit about you or me

So Stay Alert

LYRIC: With Burning Anger

With burning anger I

Sing songs written in my youth

Furious that the 

lyrics still apply

Police brutality, government lies

Capitalism Sucks, innocents die

The Profitganda media march us to war

The rich getting richer the poor staying poor

With burning anger I

Watch the daily proof

A vindication I wish 

I wish was not the truth

Same ideologies/different hairstyles

Progress Ever Backwards for another few miles

Fat on Junk Food News and Culturally Dead

I Fear For The World, cuz it’s losing it’s head 

Is This What Democracy Looks Like?

Surely There Must Be More Than This To Life?

Or are we Too Lazy To Live?

With burning anger I

Write another song

Familiar lyrics

Until the problem’s gone

I stared at my navel but now I am back

To point out our failings and show where we lack

I play this guitar with burning anger 

We’re still Not The Good Guys

And we never were

LYRIC: The Things We Do To Pay The Bills

I exist behind a guise

Crushed beneath professional hair

Cannot breathe inside this suit

The one I swore I’d never wear

They were the worst days of my life

Yet I’m back inside in that cell

The one I thought I had escaped

The one that I always called hell

The things we do to pay the bills

Can make us strangers to ourselves

If only I could see me now

But I have become someone else

In my bathroom there’s a mirror

But staring back at me

Unrecognizable reflection

Pseudo identity

I plaster on my daily smile

The one the world expects

I turn away and close the door

My tie a noose around my neck

I hear the words fall from my throat

Saying things I don’t believe

Same old stories I was told

The ones from which I had been freed

Until I had masters to please

Bosses I’m forced to obey

The evil’s always so banal

When normalised as just another day

The things we do to pay the bills

Would make our younger selves blush red

If only I could see me now

But the me I was is dead

In my bathroom there’s a mirror

But staring back at me

Unrecognizable reflection

Pseudo identity

I plaster on my daily smile

The one the world expects

I turn away and close the door

My tie a noose around my neck

Life – 

binding me, 

hiding me, 

holding me prisoner, 

entwining me

Now I need, 

to break free, 

now I need to begin finding me

Finding me

LYRIC: To All My Almost Friends

It’s hard to find others

When you keep losing yourself

But harder to lose them

Because they wanted someone else

Think you’ve found a home

But it’s just foster care again

A temporary reprieve 

Until you’re out the door again

I don’t mean to be so difficult

But I will always speak my mind

The ones who like what they hear

Are the ones I need to find

Each time I’ve found my tribe

All too soon I don’t belong

Think that I’ve found my people

But soon find out I was wrong

Each time that I’m welcomed

I’m too soon shown to the door

I show the world who I am

It never asks for an encore

I don’t mean to be so difficult…

I light my beacon, hopeful

It will attract like-minded light

The beacon’s glow starts to smoulder…

Fades, unseen, into the night

I shout these words out in rhythm

Write down who I am in rhyme

My voice is a constant prayer

In a world with no divine

I don’t mean to be so difficult…

But I’m not changing for acceptance

Because those who get it, get it

And those who don’t…

…Were never worth the time

LYRIC: Searching For That Scene

I’m still searching for the scene

Dreamed of in the suburbs

Listening to records of a past already dead

Because where do you go when you want to be you

But you want to be you in a place which no longer exists?

I’m still searching for that scene

We dined on leftovers long out of date, hoping

the next meal would bring nourishment not more empty stomachs

But there’s only so many disappointing rooms taunting

Before you realise this is all you are gonna get

I’m still searching for that scene

Sending out messages in cut and paste, 

With a self-addressed 

Envelope 

To rusting PO Boxes only answered 

By the heroes we were told to never meet

Ahead of our time, we lived in the past

Unable to bridge the gap between the then and now

We were children hunting down an impossible dream

One from which they can’t seem to shake me quite awake.

I’m still searching for that scene

LYRIC: Bursting From The Grave

Just as fucked up as I ever was

Maybe fucked up a little more

The damage of a life lived wide awake

While other people close their eyes

I cut my hair sometimes to celebrate

To mark another minor liberation

You join the dots of every scar

They come together and they form a mask

That’s far too easy to slip on

I find myself when I refuse

When I raise two middle fingers at the world

Bursting from the grave

I gasp deep at the fresh air

A zombie roaming empty streets

Finding myself, Piece by piece

Just in time for them 

To bury me alive again

I find myself in my old notebooks

Which read the same as this one now

And listening back to all those favourite songs

Which never fail to make me feel

The way I felt listening for the first time

I wear myself upon my sleeve

In new tattoos and ancient t-shirts

I am myself when I am ill at ease

Sleepless nights and restless days

I am nothing but my patterns

Childhood traumas locked in amber

Bursting from the grave

I gasp deep at the fresh air

A zombie roaming empty streets

Finding myself, Piece by piece

Just in time for them 

To bury me alive again

We can always disappoint 

The person we see standing in the mirror

But we can also make them proud

A lot is lost with every passing year

A thousand cuts of compromise

But they can never take it all away

So hold on tight to what is left

I have never been the person that they thought I was

Some days I am better

Some days I am much worse

But I am always somewhere inside even when I’m lost I’m still there clinging on

Bursting from the grave

I gasp deep at the fresh air

A zombie roaming empty streets

Finding myself, Piece by piece

Just in time for them 

To bury me alive again

My nemesis is the unthinking status quo

My secret power is my power to say no

Bursting from the grave

I gasp deep at the fresh air

A zombie roaming empty streets

Finding myself, Piece by piece

Just in time for them 

To bury me alive again

LYRIC: Congratulations

False smile, wide eyes

Dreams dead, lost pride

Chin up, shut down

Lost and not found

And hey, what happened to you today

Hey what happened to you?

Where is the you, the you we used to see?

The one with all the hopes and all the dreams?

The one who said the world was ours to change?

Where is the idealist artistic heart?

The revolution we were charged to start?

Where is the you, the you you used to be?

Earning a living

Worn down, give in

Sold out and employed

Bills paid, but hope void

You got a job

Mortgage, locked in

Own your own prison

Pension, pay cheque

Another lost reject

And hey, what happened to you today?

(You got a job)

Hey what happened to you?

LYRIC: Social Distance

I’ve been self-isolating

Since before it was cool

But now that I have to

What is there to do?

There’s been social distance

Now for far too long

Where better than quarantine

To write a song?

Can we all come together now, alone,

And recognise that when we needed help,

We always had each other to provide? 

While the powers that be

Wrung their hands.

The old way of doing things

Falls to the ground

No shock to the system

Has been more profound

We watch the mask slipping

Beneath it we find

Nothing more was needed

Than just being kind

Can we all come together now, alone,

And recognise that when we needed help,

We always had each other to provide? 

While the powers that be

Wrung their hands.

There’s been social distance

Now for far too long

LYRIC: I Will Look Back on This Fondly

Terrified, I clambered over ancient ruins

Rushing sights

Other people wait a lifetime just to see

Counting down the days

I took photographs 

And wished for home

Always thinking of tomorrow, 

I miss out on today

I will look back on this fondly

Even if now I am crippled by fear

Retrospect: the only joy I’ll ever see

When your own mind is your worst enemy

I miss the live show of the best days of my life 

But catch up with them later, on demand

Viewed from a safe distance

I confront anxiety with its false narrative

But in the amnesia of tomorrow

The lesson fades

I will look back on this fondly

Even if now I am crippled by fear

Retrospect: the only joy I’ll ever see

When my own mind is my worst enemy

That sinking feeling in my stomach instead of butterflies

Instead of looking forward I begin to catastrophize 

Wherever I am I am always locked up trapped inside my head

My fingers reach and brush against the key

This does not have to be my destiny

The airplane is hot with expectation

people breathing out 

Summer hopes into a flying metal box

Reminding us there are some laws of nature 

We can overcome

Even when they seem to be so permanent  

We can overcome

LYRIC: The End of the World (Today)

The people have spoken and I’m feeling sick

Who could imagine things changing this quick

Frustrated, ignorant grasping at straws

These are the things that make people start wars

I tremble as everyday life starts to look

Like the opening chapters of an old history book

These were the dark days that caused Rome to fall

These were the factors that started it all

The end of the world

Comes without warning

The end of the world

Is today

A moment of madness undoing the years

Of progress it’s taken to get us to here

Long battles fought and hard victories won

The evolution of civilization

Enlightenment can’t last without any lights

And now we are facing the darkest of nights

Desperation giving way to despair

The people have spoken and I’m feeling scared

The comfort of thinking it can’t happen here

Is the surest sign that it is already near

Right on your doorstep, right on your street

Amazing how well we can walk in our sleep

Napping our way through this democracy

Uninformed, responsibility-free

Until we awake and blink open our eyes

It’s hard to believe that we’re even surprised