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1. |
Moveable Feast
04:33
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The woman is ready, she’s always prepared,
the lady is sure ain’t gonna die today
She lives her will in a safe place;
she wears her wings, her talisman rings.
A ring of fire, the blood type on her wrist
Just in case she dies today, just in case
That’s her cure it’s a Moveable Feast.
She scrubs her body, shining her looks,
brave and broken in a continuous loop.
Just follow her books if you drop by;
she needs a portal; she’s never been mortal.
Has a whistle in her bag and a Hemingway
In case she’s lost today, not coming back
She’ll find her way, her salt for luck.
She keeps her pills close, she’s an old soul you may say;
her little life on display.
The songs she made, the trips she ‘ll take,
is the museum of a strange funny girl.
The woman is ready, she’s always prepared,
the lady is sure ain’t gonna die today
Her sleeping beast so numb, her angel awake;
her code expires; she has no last desires.
A key to her empire, her coffee black too late
Hide the flare gun inside the plant, come and play
Her salt for lack, it’s a Moveable Feast.
“And you’ll have to pay no rent,
the horizon just flatlines on a lifetime well spent”
The woman was ready, was always prepared,
the lady is sure she didn’t die today
It was a shell shock and don’t dare you to willow;
her name was random, her pain was phantom
Just a dream in the shape of her pillow
Take a swim she’s ready for the sea
Just take a walk, it’s a Moveable Feast
Just take a walk, it’s a Moveable Feast.
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2. |
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There should be flowers here, blooming from bloody lips.
There should be songs here, blooming from bloody lips.
You’re the drop left from the rain,
The coal left from a train to nowhere.
You’re forgotten by storms,
You’re being bullied by saints.
The world should be out of thorns by now.
Strange happy little girls dancing in your jar bells,
You should be playing see-saw with pain.
There should be flowers here and I should buy them myself.
Oh, they just don’t have time for me dear, but I can bloom in a room of my own.
Save me some coil from the dark ages,
Save me some soil from your false bullet.
You weren’t supposed to live in cages,
Darlin’ I fear, no one will cherish your pearls
Trade me for mirrors and cells.
There should be flowers here, blooming from bloody lips.
There should be songs here, blooming from bloody lips.
Don’t give me that look, so dingy and grim,
I’m standing here at the edge of the sea.
Inside me a larva fish learning to swim,
Inside me a woman learning to weep.
An old lady falling from the ship.
There could be flowers here and you would buy them yourself,
Oh, they just don’t have time for you dear, but you can bloom in a room of your own.
So, the flowers should have loved me more,
Do not surrender me on the first hand.
Now my eyes can see in the dark,
And I can gloom in twilight.
There’s no season to fight,
And in a puddle, I can kill a shark.
Flowers can grow on the shore,
Tears can flow in the salt.
So, we can taste our core.
There should be songs here.
Always clashing for more.
There could be songs here, always clashing for more.
There could be songs here, so we can taste our core.
You were supposed to walk the earth,
You were supposed to live and tell.
Darling, I fear, they will cherish your pages,
Trade them for breath.
Sell them for birth.
There could be songs here, always clashing for more.
There could be songs here, so we can taste our core.
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Nassos Conqueso Greece
Nassos is a singer/songwriter, guitarist and multi-instrumentalist, wandering between Athens and London. His main influences include the 3 Davids (Byrne, Bowie, Gilmour), John Mayer and Eric Clapton.
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