1. |
Cats with Lasers
03:58
|
|||
|
Cats with Lasers
Precision cloc-kwor-k, slapstic-k Stan & Ollie:
a pair of oddities—a telepathic double act.
Let’s interface—switch from silent cinema.
Let’s break the fourth wall—take up the gauntlet.
Could it be she’s my Brigitte Bardot—
my muse, the spark for a smoke-infused utterance?
A call to arms, Children of the Underworld:
swirling closer, a cloud of poison ink.
Chilled to the bone,
kids in blazers;
looks that kill;
cats, cats,
cats with lasers—
lasers for eyes;
their interstellar steamship
blackens the skies.
Cats with lasers—
a glancing blow.
We are freaks of nature:
they’re the mew-tant foe.
We put the boot in—flew the freak-flag.
We stood resolute like Morrissey’s quiff.
Let’s interface—plunder science fiction.
Let’s flick the V-sign with conviction.
Could it be she’s my comic-strip Barbarella—
sensuous lips and thought clouds melding?
A call to arms, Children of the Far North:
with collars up, let’s kick them back to Hell.
Chilled to the bone,
kids in blazers;
looks that kill;
cats, cats,
cats with lasers—
lasers for eyes;
their interstellar steamship
blackens the skies.
Cats with lasers—
a glancing blow.
We are freaks of nature:
they’re the mew-tant foe.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
The Rebirth of Reynardine
No snare will pin me down, but there are those who tried;
they floundered behind me, blown off the mountainside.
At dusk, a bareback rider bestrides a flighty mare;
The summer’s on her lips, and the woodland’s in her hair.
The woodland’s in her hair, the woodland’s in her hair;
the summer’s on her lips, and the woodland’s in her hair.
Her lurcher tracks my scent; her skittish mount rears back;
the blackbird’s call betrays me. “Take off your mask,” she says.
There’s something of the gypsy about that girl, I swear:
the taste of her body; the eloquence of her stare.
The eloquence of her stare, the eloquence of her stare,
the taste of her body, the eloquence of her stare.
When she and I were fox cubs in a tumbling tug-of-war,
ancient oaks inhaled our laughter, and we their gentle sighs.
I want to drink the sunrise in—to feel her breath
once more against my skin—for Heaven
is the dawn reflected in her eyes.
No song will pin me down, but there are those who tried:
balladeers and minstrels; they call me Reynardine.
My tired yew tree limbs seek the coolness of the earth;
this covert’s her cathedral of renewal and rebirth.
Renewal and rebirth, renewal and rebirth.
This covert’s her cathedral of renewal and rebirth.
The woodland’s in her hair, the woodland’s in her hair;
the summer’s on her lips, and the woodland’s in her hair.
|
||||
Blue-John Benjamin Whitby, UK
"We put the boot in - flew the freak-flag;
We stood resolute like Morrissey’s quiff."
If you like Cats with Lasers / The Rebirth of Reynardine, you may also like:
Sorry I'm So Sensitive
by Bea Stewart
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed.
go to album
Michelle Stodart’s folk music captures hope in melancholy, addressing the transformational aspects of the most challenging times.
go to album
Veneer (20th Anniversary Deluxe Edition)
by José González
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 29, 2023
go to album
Once Upon A Time In Montréal
by Murray A. Lightburn
The folk artist explores grief through these smooth and soulful tracks.
go to album
Our Blood Is Red
by Luke James Williams
Emotive acoustic balladry from this UK musician with heart on sleeve and hushed arrangements.
go to album
Oakland singer-songwriter honors her Haitian heritage with five R&B spirituals overflowing with radiance, fueled by her soft, angelic voice.
go to album
The tender UK psych folk on “Continuum” explores motherhood through song.
go to album
