The Pause

SEEKING

Vocalist, Rhythm Guitar, Lead Guitar, Acoustic Guitar, Drums, Other Percussion, Violin, Trumpet, Saxophone, Piano, Background Singer, Flute, Banjo, Fiddle, Cello.

ABOUT

I am predominantly a lyricist, however if you are eager to work with an average beginner/intermediate level keyboardist/guitarist/ singer with no experience playing with other people ever, then I would be happy to see what comes of it.

Trackin' :

I’m riding driftwood
Far out where the rhyme breaks
Bright into the midline
Right down through the out takes.
And lately the sound calls
Driven low from the slow lakes
Out deep where the mist falls
Hard rising like earth quakes.

Don’t you dare let a round sound
Slip cold from those warm lips.
Blood, wool, wet and will bound
Mild mannered while time shifts.
Now we’re trackin’ big foot
Cold cotton and clothes clips.
He’s Mac, mad makin’ wide tacks,
Deep down where the tide drifts.

He’s myth makin’ old friends
Out back by the new trees
Weathered, wild walkin’ backfoot
Low, up under the dead leaves.
I’m slow stitching sea glass
Delight spilling cold shoes,
Light thrill on the cloud line,
Shed fresh on the old news.

Picked up a few strays,
Where broken rhyme ends,
A note in a bottle
That only half sends.
And you were like starlight
Toe grip on the fence line,
Tuning your voice to
The hush of the old pines.

Always where your yearning waits
I see you beside my sin
Naked there and painting flakes
Of novelty upon your skin.

When the earth quake shakes,
No one fakes a smile.
You afforded me,
More than just a little while.

My fascination:

Tried to write my fascination..
Though I was not slick..
So i cried exasperation..
But I tired quick..
I looked for inspiration..
Found it everywhere..
I gimbled my elation..
'til I did not care..
Free my mind of wind and willow..
Don't deceive my armadillo..
Slice the cabbage off the rot..
Mictate on my ocelot..
Teach me why I am not wise..
Break me when your eyes was pies..
Show me a cat trumpet flute..
With your eyes of beetle fruit..

Down and out in Bedlam:

I see bell birds getting down and out in bedlam baby.
I hear standing babas dying slowly on their feet.
I smell biscuit baking, dew drops breaking underneath me.
Buccaneers all beg for mercy here on boogie street.
And I could not sail the seas so sweet as such without you.
Nor bind you to the whalers wheel with bands of jute.
I will not deceive your inner armadillo lady.
I will love you with your eyes of pies and beetle fruit.

Screen name:: The Pause
Member since:: Nov 26 2022; Active within 1 week
Level of commitment:: Committed
Years playing music:: 45
Tend to practice:: 2-3 times per week

Influences

Um.. this is hard. I like music by the song, not by the artist. However I love Leanord Cohen, Frerddie Whit6e, Alan Parsons Project, Iron and Wine, Ian Moss, Chris Rheah, Fleetwood Mac, Ben Howard, E#ddie Vedder, Mac Daddy