Lyrics

REVERSE THE HEXES EP

Your Gods

I come with Brigit and Freya, to heal this whole thing now. For we’re resurrected from the stake, to show the error of these times. But the inquisitor squad, hides in the parade, saying “Your times up girly, pack your bags and on your way”.

Clear the way dear ancestors, who live in the trees.

We are the pagan black death healers, we’ve led your children to Valhalla. For we are Lilith scorned and the crones, for our tales are in these stones and bones.

We will not go quietly, back into the night,
As you use their names against us,
To justify your own desires.
For we turn prayers to actions, and put actions to work.

So why don’t you to talk to your Gods, for I talk to mine.
So why don’t you pray to your Gods, for I pray to mine.
For the pantheon is gathered, gathered around you now.

We will not go quietly, back into the night,
As you use their names against us,
To justify your own desires.
For we turn prayers to actions, and put actions to work.
So roll up your sleeves now, put your hands on the Earth,
And your hands in the Earth.

But not your hands on her.

 

Six Penny Witch (Old Christine)

It was a wet and cold night when Captain McGlashan brought his men, through the driving rain to Stegh Beagh. There they found the crone in her hovel on the hill, with ravens standing by with gleaming eye. McGlashan asked Old Christine to end the wicked gale. She called for the water pail for their fishing boat and said

“The price is 6 pence for the wind to get you home to Cromarty,
6 pence for the wind, do you agree?
And it’ll be a fine, fair breeze with the morn,
It’ll be a kinder wind to take you home.”

So the crew brought the pail and she trussed it up with sacred herbs and bade them not disturb the spell she cast, until every member of the crew was set safe upon homes shore, and not a moment before or the storm would return. With they woke with the dawn, they found a clear and pleasant morn, and set their fishing boat upon the firth.

But at the gloaming they rolled into the bay, and with it their resolve washed away. For they spied the kirks spire from the deck, and feared the preacher would send them down to Old Nick, for consorting with wind witches like Old Christine. So they threw the pail in to the wake, and watched the herbs float away. And the clouds started gathering, and the the wind started howling, and the waves started crashing, and the rain started driving them away.

And at dawns early light, they saw they were crashed upon the rocks, and they looked out at an unfamiliar shore. And there sitting on a rock, with a rye wicked smile, was Old Christine herself. And she said

“What brought ye back so soon lads? It’ll be a long walk home for you now lads.”

So if you treat with wind witches, follow their instructions to the tee, or end up on bended knee.

 

Sons Of Adam, Daughters of Eve

Sons of Adam, and Daughters of Eve. Won’t you lend me your ears please. For I may know the secrets, that I hope you won’t keep. For it’s time to awaken now, from your slumber and sleep. And why are you caged? And why do you blame? For your jailor and self, are one in the same.
One and the same.

And could you grasp the quantum world? Or is it much to scary and far too absurd, something so small at the base of it all, are you splitting the atom? Or are you just splitting hairs? I fear you’re just splitting hairs.

Now it’s all very simple, that’s the trick of it all and something better could be coming if we just heed the call, heed the call. Oh I do hope you do heed the call.

So heed the call, one and all and meet us at the dancing lawns.

Forget your big books, and your teachings of youth,
For the tree shall be judged by the wealth of it’s fruit.

 

NEXT AUTOMATED WAVE EP

Next Automated Wave

Hidden influence, and all your scattered energies. All manner of distractions, and your creative blocks. Your relationship struggles, old misplaced trusts. You would speak the truth, but it trips upon your tongue. This constant waiting game, this illusive improvement – the next automated wave, lends to your dead end expertise.

But can you kick out survival mode? When you’re told it’s a lifestyle choice, when you’re told it’s a buyers market? That the others can pay the price.

Imposter syndrome, and all your unrequited loves. Another casual connection, and you’re a vulnerable mess, through an act of creation, but again your timing was off. Your message has missed the mark, you’ve failed to close the deal again. But I see you got your life planned. Set out over the next 5 years, with a  pretty little fantasist, imitating the melody of your words.

The world goes round a strange corner. Return to the tribe, speak to your echo chamber. Which timeline will you choose?

 

Elspeth & Elijah

Elijah was led by significance’s call,
A migrant with no home or coin.
But Elspeth loved her man of no vocation,
She longed to build a home around his bones.
Maybe if I make something of myself,
Sail away to protect home shores.
Come back and tell you of the lands I’ve seen,
With gold lined pockets, I’ll be worthy of thee.

But to Elspeth this philosophy was maddening,
For she saw his worth as he stood in front of her there.
But Elijah was set on adventuring,
Another recruit for the crown, to never return,

For when hands are not busy, It’s too easy to blame.
And the fist and the finger, Search for direction,
As the furious crowd,
Pick up the old refrain
“For our hands are not busy,
And we’ve nothing to our names.”

Drunk on snake oil he boarded with his brothers,
Out in to the world, to civilise and steal.
For one mans hero is another man’s crook,
and Elspeth’s vision of him, was kinder than the truth.
Helped build an empire book ended by Elizabeth’s,
And got shipwrecked upon the Skeleton Coast,
And for Elspeth a war widows pension,
And an empty home…

For when hands are not busy,
It’s too easy to blame.
And the fist and the finger,
Search for direction.
As the furious crowd,
Pick up the old refrain
“For our hands are not busy,
And we’ve nothing to our names.”

And Elspeth has stood by the shoreside,
For all these centuries long passed.
Watched husband’s, brothers and fathers,
As they men waved farewell.
And she’s kept the hearth fires burning,
As these boys, breathed their last.
For she was the Unknown Soldiers’,
Female counterpart.

For when hands are not busy,
It’s too easy to blame.
And the fist and the finger,
Search for direction,
As the furious crowd,
Pick up the old refrain
“For our hands are not busy,
And we’ve nothing to our names.”

 

The Illustrious Pen Thief

Oh Henry was a bard of sorts,
writing paid for his room and board,
until the Laird threw him out.
He was defender of the written word,
but Henry found it absurd that others dared to waste this precious ink.
Why write when you can barely even think?

So he broke in to the libraries,
To amend all the histories,
Paid for by those who had thought they’d won.
But Henry’s quick calligraphy,
Reevaluated victories,
Giving voice to the voiceless long gone.
He amended prose, poetry and song.

Oh Henry, my darling Henry,
the Illustrious Pen Thief.
Oh Henry, my darling Henry,
prefers cuneiform and hieroglyph.
Oh Henry, my darling Henry,
says there’s a power in these words that we miss.

He held journalists,
in contempt for misuse of spelling and syntax,
of twisting the glorious written word.
So he broke apart their printing press,
and gathered up all their ink and pens,
and set the place alight with a curse!
His house is full of so many pens,
he’s making furniture out of them,
and on his hands and clothes a constant ink stain.

But soon the law caught word,
of these pen theft reports and Henry was called before the courts.
He said ‘My Lord you may speak in legalise,
But your conscience you cannot appease,
For if you write like you speak my Lord,
That sentence would be a waste of words!”

Oh Henry, my darling Henry,
The Illustrious Pen Thief.
Oh Henry, my darling Henry,
prefers cuneiform and hieroglyph.
Oh Henry, my darling Henry,
Says there’s a power in these words that we miss.