Ivory Coast from 53mph by 53mph

You’re like a ship in the night,
Losing your load in the mire.
But the Ivory Coast is dear,
And the phantasms make it clear.

It doubles up on the floor,
Then doubles up some more.
But the secular life is mean,
Always making you wash and clean.

But I never was what you told me to be,
Makes me feel high.
And you never saw what I told you to see,
Makes me feel high.

But you’re bringing me faith,
Back to the human race.
And you’re bringing it left and right,
Underneath me and out of sight.

And you’re mating sound,
Leaves me flat on the ground.
But the angels are far too proud,
To all sit on one golden cloud.
Causes tension with over-crowd.
Causes others to laugh out loud.

But I never meant what you thought I had done,
Makes me fell high.
And your Ivory towers are blocking the sun,
Makes me feel high.
And the fading light causes migraines to cloud,
Over my eyes.
Always the maid but never the bride.

But I never was what you told me to be,
Makes me feel high.
And you never saw what I told you to see,
Makes me just sigh.
And I’ll meet you again at the point of view,
Where we’ll get high.
Leaving me proud but always refused.

You’re by the edge of the sea,
With Orson Wells on your knee,
Telling you about shutter speeds,
And the movement of Polynese.

And the flight left at dawn,
With only two people on.
But the Ivory Coast is clear,
Of the peasants with home brewed beer.
It’s inundated with tramps and Queens,
Swapping postcards of the late James Dean.
Whilst all the muscles make their bodies gleam,
Out at sea there’s a hurricane.
Always the maid but never the bride.

• Brit rock
• Folk
• alt-country
• indie folk
• indie rock
• leftfield folk
• pop rock
• rock
• songwriter
• Italy