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lyrics

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.

credits

from I Don't Know, released June 10, 2023
Rob Miles : Vocals, Resonator Guitar
Alice Gauthier : Clarinet
Solène Doually : Musical Saw, Vocals
Elsa Dominguez : Hammond Organ, Vocals
Bruno Sigogneau : Double Bass
Léo Jacquet : Drums

Words, music and arrangement by Rob Miles.
Recorded on tape by Arthur dB at Studio Saint-Lambert, Paris, France.
Mastered by Quentin at Soundtrip.

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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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