Brothers and Sisters EP

by Groom

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1.
2.
02:45
3.
02:34
4.

credits

released July 27, 2013

Track 1 written by Stevens/McDermott; recorded and mixed by Wil McDermott
Track 2 written by Michael Stevens; recorded and mixed by Ruan van Vliet
Track 3 written by Michael Stevens; recorded and mixed by Michael Stevens
Track 4 written by Stevens/Saegeman; recorded and mixed by Jerry Saegeman
Mastered by the mighty Stephen Quinn
Cover illustration and design by Ruan van Vliet

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Track Name: Brothers and Sisters
Third day by the new grave
“Well let’s clear out the room”
Leaves grey like in school days
“Oh you took that road too?”

Brothers and sisters dragged their heels
When coming for lunch as the sun shone on
They laughed and stopped
They talked a lot
And they tugged on their clothing

Bare knees and ash trees
“I’ll be France, you be Spain”
Sandwiches and annuals
“Come inside, it might rain”

And brothers and sisters dragged their heels
When coming for lunch as the sun shone on
They laughed and stopped
They talked a lot
And they tugged on her clothing

Now brothers and sisters drag their heels
When calling around in the town, they have found
They cough to talk
They stop a lot
And they fold up her clothing
Track Name: Fishing 1983
Ow my aching back, is it really ten past five?
There’s some brown trout waiting in the shimmer
With their flesh white and their speckled skin shining
And we walked down by the weir
And young Tommy Baldhead he was also here
And Dad talked about the weather and the current
And Tom was going wherever we weren’t

And Dad said “Don’t flit on the edge over there like a fly do
Sometimes you get your jeans a bit wet like I do
And just fall in the flow of the water around you
And when it’s cold cold cold
I’ll hold hold hold onto you”

And then Dad went on his own
I didn’t like being left alone, it was boring, it was cold and boring
Misty wet and the weir still roaring
And the time and trees were dead
And I’d forgotten everything he’d said in September
In cold September
When days are gone, they’re gone forever?

Don’t flit on the edge over there like a fly do
Sometimes you get your jeans a bit wet like I do
And just fall in the flow of the water around you
And when it’s cold cold cold
I’ll hold hold hold onto you
Track Name: Wet Thursday
Mousy cheese with brown bread.
Coffee, percolated.
All life ends when breakfast ends.

Take care of your brolly,
It could save your lolly.
Sleep with it and keep it well.

It’s a wet Thursday,
And your misery makes its soggy way.
We’re the guinea pigs, it’s so scientific.
Oink oink! Pig pig!

Phones are calling, all stiff, vibrating.
Attractive girls in black write hieroglyphs
To smart young things, their young bucks
In photocopied haircuts.
On the march, you ponder if,

On this wet Thursday,
The puddles do say
That your heart’s not here.
You’re a vacant stare
Into Fitzwilliam Square,
Into nowhere, nowhere.

If death is the answer
Then hand me the cancer.
At least I’ll look good in my cheap box of wood,
With me trousered, me shirted, my bored look preserved.
The neighbours will flop in
“You’re so kind to stop in”
“A good life he led”
“Yeah it’s too bad he’s…dead”.

It’s a wet Thursday,
And the puddles do say
“You must flop along”.
You’re a toad with no tongue;
You’re the chords to a lost song.
It’s 1
Here’s lunch!
Track Name: Love, Death and Bandaged Heads
Dogs saluting the sides of town bins
Fragrant altars, you worship at them
While I stumble through the kids’ clothes section
A thousand pink skirts, and who to fill them?

Don’t leave
We’re not finished with the love, death, and bandaged heads
Don’t leave, the champagne glass is still half full
Here’s some pink fizz for the side of your head

I know we’re gone, gone, gone
I know I’m no Maud Gonne
But get real, neither’s she
And that’s not poetry
I stare into a thousand days
Let her stare into ten thousand days

Don’t leave
We’re not finished with the love, death, and bandaged heads
Don’t leave
Touch the hem of your jacket sleeve
And tear it to pieces, tear it to pieces

Don’t leave
We’re not finished with the love, death, and bandaged heads
Don’t leave
The champagne glass is still half full
Here’s a sharp shard for the side of your head