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Midnight Limbo

by Graeme Mearns

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1.
Well someday oh someday the passion will come that will burst your heart open and bloody your walls dripping love like a murder. I promise you this: you will fall from that tower, you will hang from your cross betrayed by a kiss, your heart on your walls dripping love like a murder.
2.
Smoke Rings 04:05
All my photographs are dead, my memories are still as corpses, my ghosts as dull as dust. This is my life you see strewn across the floor. My passion sleeps sprawled across my bed, my love's locked in the bottom drawer, my thoughts are scraps of paper crumpled on the desk beneath the cups of coffee, underneath the stains. But maybe I should chill out, spark a cigarette, try to spark another flame. It just always turns to ash again. Someone help me please I'm falling down on you. And all my dreams are torn to shreds. I took them to the doctor. She's doing all she can but somehow I do not think that they'll pull through. I'm dying. Or maybe I'm in love. I think I'll open up that drawer and have a peek inside, look in the corners and see if I'd see you and then perhaps I'll hang myself. Or maybe I'll just faint. Or maybe I should chill out, spark a cigarette, blow smoke-rings through my latest flame. But it'll always turn to ash again. Someone help me please I'm falling down on you. Why can't you see that you are all I have to feel?
3.
Mrs Jones, I wasn't joking - 'ksake! Was that steamers' skinful wasted? From the Weige decentred went I through a bleak narcotic night aboard a midnight limbo train frothing fevers in the brain to drink the Burgh dry (for courage); and I rolled in around 4, crossed the ocean of my floor and dropped the words into your inbox like a sodden tonne of luggage (ha-ha, ho-ho!): Hey, Mrs Jones - wha'd'ya know? - I'm in love with you, you make my garden grow and, furthermore, that gadge you saw: could you kindly show his grinning pus the door? or words to that effect. But - what the hell did I expect? - you found it witty, debonair and so ironic and you didn't realise that I want in between your thighs. I got the bull, I got it bad, I got the chronic. Ha-ha, ho-ho! Hey, Mrs Jones, come jump my bones. Y'know I've waited years to let you take me home and might I add I'm minging mad, aflame with jealousy? I thought you oughtta know. Hey, Mrs Jones, come share my load because I'm pure gonzoed for you lately and it shows and, furthermore, that gadge you saw: could you kindly show his grinning pus the door? O lady I'm a clear winter sky. By the shade of a willow tree I lay down to die. O me, O my. Hey, Mrs Jones - wha'd'ya know? - I'm in love with you, you make my garden grow and, furthermore, that gadge you saw: could you kindly show his grinning pus the door and, Mrs Jones, come jump my bones? Y'know I've waited years to let you take me home and might I add I'm minging mad, insane with jealousy? I thought you oughtta know. Hey, Mrs Jones, come share my load because I'm pure gonzoed for you lately and it shows and, furthermore, your boy's a bore. Could you kindly fling him out the frigging door? Hey, Mrs Jones, where have you gone? In the morning you'd transformed. I shouldda known. And now you've flown and I'm all alone my words come smashing through your window like a stone.
4.
Gniwrow Ojom 04:12
My mojo's working in reverse. That voodoo woman was taking the piss I do believe when she made my charm. I can almost hear her laughing. Now my arms are empty, my head's a mess, bricks in my belly, heart in my arse and my ball-busting balls damn near ready to burst. My mojo's working in reverse. O where are the girls long-legged and fine with the mind-blowing hips and the lips of wine, magnificent-eyed and funny and smart? Lordy lor'! - how it tears me apart but the common garden Not If You Were The Last Woman Breathing And I Was Full Of Viagra-Laced Tequila And Heat And Psychedelic Drugs variety descend en masse. And it's getting worse. Here's a fat divorcee hanging close as a curse making doe-eyes at me from her podgy pink pus. My mojo's working in reverse. It's like living in Kirkcaldy: hell - only uglier still; and duller. Are my shrivelled cock and I over the hill? Is my lady luck a goner? And can we skip this whole minging middle-aged minger schtick and call it quits? - because I'd sooner be a fleshless fucking stiff than live like this. O where are the girls long-legged and fine with the mind-blowing hips and the lips of wine, magnificent-eyed and funny and smart? Lordy lor'! - it tears me apart. O yeah. O no. Mojo.
5.
Saturday morning wakes in a daze. The light slices into the room like a razor blade. Memory falls and the silence slithers down like sweat from the walls. Skin crawls. Skin crawls. And the ache won't shake away. Got a head full of poison and a heart made of clay. And I can't get this thing clean and I can't find my way as I tumble from another dream and the room begins to sway and I need to cling to something but you're so far away. The pit is open wide and so I crawl in, so I crawl inside. Because I'm so tired of waiting for you to come home. I'm so tired of waiting for you to come home. And that ache won't shake away. Got a head full of poison and a heart made of clay. And I can't get this thing clean and I can't find my way as I tumble from another dream and the room begins to sway and I need to cling to something but you're so far away. The pit is open wide and so I crawl inside and so I crawl inside...
6.
Lock me up in your black and white box. We'll stop the clocks tonight. Lock me up in your black and white box where everything's alright, yeah, taking my body right out of time, yeah, taking my troubles right out of my mind as you lock me up in your black and white box. We'll stop the clocks tonight. Lock me up in your black and white box. I dropped out of the sky. Lock me up in your black and white box. The Lord don't want my soul tonight. My broken wings don't fly no more so I crawl till I fall at your feet on the floor and you lock me up in your black and white box. I dropped out of the sky. Lock me up in your black and white box. The cradle rocks tonight. Lock me up in your black and white box where no-one talks about wrong and right. I got a deathbed waiting and I'm out of my head. You can lay me down there and we'll kiss till I'm dead and you lock me up in your black and white box. The cradle rocks tonight.
7.
Well I don't remember how we made it home tonight but the light in this room just ignites the gloom we'd tried to hide. Still I say: "Everything will be alright" and I kiss your eyelids closed because I'm drunk enough to fall in love until tomorrow. Now you cling to me like I was your crucifix and as you drag me down with you I hear you say you'll do anything anything anything to keep your nightmares away. And I feel afraid - what does this mean? Won't go away - what does this mean? And the fear in your face - what does this mean? What does this mean? What does this mean? What does this mean? Freefall, freefall. Freefall, free for all… Now I'm face-down in your pillow while all the scariest scenes from the day go dancing round the maypole, dancing round the maypole, round and around and around. We spin round and around till we splash to the ground like the jewels I brushed from your face smiling: "Vodka! - into tomorra!" half a universe away. But you're sleeping so peaceful now. I hope that your dreams are all sweeter than your realities. I hope that your dreams are all sweeter than this reality. And I feel afraid - what does this mean? Won't go away - what does this mean? And the fear in your face - what does this mean? What does this mean? What does this mean? What does this mean? Well you broke my heart twice tonight but everything will be alright, yeah, everything will be alright if we just keep falling.
8.
Amelia 04:37
O moon so bright where did my Amelia go? Strange magics move tonight and the wind moans soft and low. In your spectral light the river dreams a shimmershow. Phantom boats arise. See the dead men row and O Amelia everything is broken. Aglow the world, a silverflame, a rage of incantation spells in heathen blood your name: Amelia A.M.E.L.I.A. Amelia. O moon so bright where did my Amelia go? Strange magics move tonight and the wind moans soft and low: Amelia A.M.E.L.I.A. Amelia.
9.
And once more we awaken a-crawl with contrition to the Tory-infested hole that is Britain, our could-have-been dreams as redundant as dreaming. We fingered our fear till it came. Now it's bleeding and Scotland the feart, afraid of itself, is a nation asunder, spare parts on a shelf. What the hell. Willingly caught in the murderous jaws of the the oil-hungry mouth to the south, we spout like a well feeding the greed of an inhuman breed as we bleed for a Freidmanite creed we could have expelled, our futures forsaken for Thatcher's fat henchmen - the red and the yellow as well as the blue ones - in a state that berates the poor for their poverty, that wallows in war and glories in royalty, with Scotland, whose heart beats for better than this, left a bitter and battered appendage of British rejects. Well who would have thought we'd have opted for hot Eton rifles and stifled our hopes with a vote such as this? Were we really so duped and so stupid we couldn't imagine a nation in which we could dare to progress? Yet once more we awaken a-crawl with contrition to the Tory-infested hole that is Britain, torn at the seams and unburdened of meaning. We linger and lear loving lameness and losing, Scotland the feart, a charade of itself, a wasted, castrated abundance of wealth. What the hell. Ashamed and to blame for the age-old disgrace, we made the UK and we kept it in spite of ourselves, taking the 'o' out of 'country' since 17 hundred and 7 and then some. What the hell. What the hell.
10.
Freefall 04:22
My tongue weighs a tonne. All the words in the world tumble and turn a tornado that swirls to a choke in my throat and drowns me to tears. I got years made of silence and dreaming. Freefall. But I can't find my way home alone. And everyone's looking for something, yeah, everyone's looking for something. I'm only looking for something, just like everyone. And everyone's looking for someone, yeah, everyone's looking for someone. I'm only looking for someone, just like everyone, just like everyone. Freefall. But I can't find my way home alone.
11.
Half-cut and half-conscious with Billy's seen darkness a bliss of unthinking and all-knowing morning we alive in the music awoke to ourselves, each peachy, pacific, specifically still. And with our five senses sixthed we fixed it so quick and with rechilded eyes - all the sky was ablaze! - and I'm frankly amazed at how simple it was, how simple it is. O the moon that balloon up above is in love with the world and they whirl in their unending dance in a cosmos of forces they don't understand but they know it had to be so. By the redgreenbrown river we mermaided now wordless with wisdom weave words till we drown goddam homo sapien spun stupid with thought so very very clever with all we are not. I trust it completely (myself a shade less) this Nameless that placed us inevitably thus.
12.
A textful of platitudes sealed with a generous X and a smiley face lady's no substitute for a night in your arms and charming as your idiosyncratic line in bullshit is I won't stick around too long with only this love without loving that you take without making. You fake that you're breaking and every day it's the same old head-games as you puppet-string my veins. So goodbye. Save your stage-tears for someone who cares. You're a mess at the best of times and this isn't one now I'm gone.

about

My first solo album in nearly a decade, made up of songs old and new and written over a period spanning 18 years. The oldest, 'Smoke Rings', was penned in July 1997, the newest, 'Bruises on the Fruit', in June 2015. They're mostly oddities unsuited for any of the bands I play in but which I was keen to archive. Aside from 'Black & White Box', which had already been released on the 2014 collection, 'Compendium 8', and 'Amelia' which was recorded with the Legendary Graeme Mearns Band in 2013 but never released, all the tracks were recorded between August 2014 and June 2015. I played all the instruments except trumpet on 'Love like a Murder' (Finlay Heatherington), fiddle on 'Black & White Box' (Peter Rowan), drums and bass on 'Amelia' (Ali Murray and Tony Makos respectively) and cello on 'In the Chambers of the Sea' (Robin Mason). 'Midnight Limbo' was released in CD format in August 2015, to coincide with my run of Edinburgh Fringe shows.

credits

released December 10, 2015

All titles written, recorded, mixed and mastered by Graeme Mearns
A Partners In Grime production

Trumpet on 'Love like a Murder' by Finlay Heatherington
Fiddle on 'Black & White Box' by Peter Michael Rowan
Drums on 'Amelia' by Ali Murray
Bass on 'Amelia' by Tony Makos
Cello in 'In the Chambers of the Sea' by Robin Mason
All other instruments and vocals by Graeme Mearns

Recorded August 2014 - June 2015
(except 'Black & White Box', recorded between 2008 and 2014
and "Amelia', recorded 2013)

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