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I Don't Know
05:02
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I Don't Know – Rob Miles
And is it folded into laparello books,
Or is it hidden in the wrinkle of a walnut,
Or the shrapnel of its shell ?
Does it crackle in the static,
Under dust sheets in the attic,
Is it howling in the silence of a broken bell ?
Is it swimming thick in mystery,
Does it crystallise in hindsight,
Does it mind its table manners,
Or is it tugging on your sleeve ?
Is it defined by shadow,
Given depth through tonal ranges,
Do the angels sing its entrance,
When the rent's due does it leave ?
Where does it come from ?
Where does it go ?
Don't ask me,
Because I don't know.
And can you drink it into focus,
Is it face down in the mud,
Is it thudding in a headache,
Or vented from the spleen ?
Does it delineate a figure,
Can it trigger something bigger,
Is it loaded in the memory of a madeleine ?
Do you see it in perifery,
Or in the eyes of monkeys,
Do you think of it in reverie,
Or pick it out your soup ?
Can you grow it, can you shed it,
Can you pay for it on credit,
Can you shuffle it or skip it,
Or is it stuck on loop ?
Where does it come from ?
Where does it go ?
Don't ask me,
Because I don't know.
And are these cracks on our media screens stimulating,
Intellectually sexy or sensationally frustrating ?
And if we penetrate these gaps are we warmly enclosed,
Or exposed, defenestrated, initiating collapse ?
And does a lapse in our memory
Make space for concentration
Create a place for recreation,
Open up the room to test ?
Or does it hamper forward movement,
If we ignore trial and improvement,
Do we just scrawl another phallus on the palimpsest ?
Where does it come from ?
Where does it go ?
Don't ask me,
Because I don't know.
I can't tell you
Where you might find it
I've been asking
And I have no answers
Now
And can it love you like a daughter,
Then demand of you a slaughter,
Does it take you out and buy you drinks,
And get you in a fight ?
Does it present itself in visions,
In a blinding flash of light,
Or does it creep into your bedroom,
In the middle of the night ?
Do you take it on vacation,
Or find it at your destination,
Does it patiently await you,
Or hurry on ahead ?
Can it be read between the lines,
Across the forehead of your father,
Do you gather it in bundles,
From the cities of the dead ?
Where does it come from ?
Where does it go ?
Don't ask me,
Because I don't know.
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2. |
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Lay My Body Down Upon The Ground – Rob Miles
Oh I'm falling
You left me on my own
I'm calling out
But the empty sky soaks up the sound
I'll keep on walking
Until my legs don't work no more
Then I'll lay my body down upon the ground
And you never know
Just what's in store
Why is it that too much of a good thing
Just makes us bored?
Well I thought that I could make it by myself,
but oh, I'm falling...
And now it's folded
And it's in a drawer
What was a moment
Is now a story
And if you ever
Feel alone
Well, there's a place within me
You have a home
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Rob Miles & Les Clés Anglaises Paris, France
Rob Miles is a visual artist and songwriter who grew up in Brighton, UK. Moving to Paris in 2015 he put together his band Les Clés Anglaises, performing his songs with a unique energy and style, blending influences from a love of blues and gospel, country, soul, and rock & roll. ... more
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