This is the “official” release of the first Grace Darling album. It appeared on C’est La Mort Records and was distributed by Cargo.
Track Listing
01. Opening
02. Cursing a Muse (Invocation)
03. Iemanja
04. Illusionarium
05. Telegraph Hill
06. Lou’s Lips
07. A Slice of This
08. There
09. I Bury My Love
10. Purgatory 3:05
11. Surf’s Up
13. Inside Me
14. Glove
15. Open Air Cafe
©1992. Some songs have been made available for free download. In exchange for this, we ask only that you do not redistribute, sell, give away, or repackage this music without prior consent.
Lyrics
Instrumental
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Cursing a Muse (Invocation)
(Simpson)
Don’t look the other way, or turn
your head, or walk away from me.
You’d let me swim where others drown,
and this is what I saw in you.
Help me on my chosen way.
See me through another day.
You’re not the muse you used to be.
You’ve sold yourself and thus your pride.
I don’t know why you have allowed
this pool of mediocrity.
There’s no basis to your lore.
I don’t need you anymore.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Iemanja
(Music: Simpson, Text: Martino)
Oh! The sinking ship.
A broken cry hangs on my lip.
Salty green awaits me;
Cold, wet slumber.
Foamy arms draw me down,
Coils of seaweed hair surround me.
Liquid eyes that paralyze.
The sea is taking me.
I would leave each day at dawn
And fear the water I rode on.
Taking life so easily
From her bounty.
Now I am to pay the fee
And give it all back to the sea.
Whispered wails of victory
Notify the shore.
© grEGORy simpson & Val Martino
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the authors.
If I close my eyes it’s only the illusion that you’re gone.
My sleep is a hollow place — its walls provide my only calm.
I’m not really breathing deep. I’m more or less just surfacing.
Every plunge another fathom fills the emptiness between
myself and life.
Substituting images,
substituting fantasy,
substituting memories for life.
If I close my eyes it’s only the illusion that you’re gone.
I’m unable to displace a fractured passion from it’s home.
My emotions stay unfocussed by the coldness in your eyes.
Yet my outward disposition’s much more lucid as I lie
about my life.
Substituting memories,
substituting fantasy,
substituting images for life.
If I close my eyes it’s only the illusion that you’re gone.
From this vantage point I see a new perspective. Nothing more.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Cast me toward the ocean from the top of the hill.
The wind will scatter my remains — up here, it’s never still.
Spread me ‘round the hilltop so my soul, up here, will stay.
And every life I lead will bring me back to here one day.
Cast me toward the ocean from the top of the hill.
The wind will scatter my remains — up here, it’s never still.
Twice I will have left the land I love passionately
But, by these actions I’ll return to die eternally.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Lou’s Lips
(Music: Simpson, Text: Martino)
Burning words. Acid. Dripping quick from my tongue.
Angry words hang between us once they’re sprung.
I didn’t mean it. No, I didn’t mean it.
Something came over me.
I take it back. I’d like to take it back.
Oh, can we forget it, please?
Mindless babbling. You spew streams of junk.
Loose lips sink ships and this one’s nearly sunk.
You didn’t think. No, you forgot to think
Before you opened up your mouth.
Now I am left to clean up the mess.
Why do they ever let you out?
© grEGORy simpson & Val Martino
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the authors.
Tones ball petrified on trees.
Streams glow blue from film disease.
Tore pine finance in the fire.
Watch it Philip by the wire.
Peel endangered very screen.
Slicing candy waters clean.
Sandwich paths off tenderness.
Filter blends togetherness.
Oh, in this world, all I know;
Love is like an old widow–
Losing hope, alone and sad.
Handicapped and going mad.
Fish my bones climb radio.
Bottom focus fooling tow.
Dying hair cloth architects.
Flying coils trace dominance.
Aircraft bowls want plastic bags.
Stiffen doctor burning rags.
Private slate beacons on blonde.
Carpets held to foiling pond.
Oh, in this world, all I know;
Love is like an old widow–
Losing hope, alone and sad.
Handicapped and going mad.
Words grow slightly down on flame.
Holding shores phone carbon name.
Danger glances off to sea.
Talking waits judiciously.
Scarlet saucers pickle by
Opening a cayenne sky.
Silent passengers turn more.
Longing was tonight a door.
Oh, in this world, all I know;
Love is like an old widow–
Losing hope, alone and sad.
Handicapped and going mad.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Take a little breath
And then let it out.
Try to lose control
With an audience.
Solitude abandoned.
I’m afraid of going there.
Take a little breath
And then let it out.
Deep within you soar
On a poison thought.
While your eyes show anguish.
You’re afraid of going there.
Take a little breath
And then let it out.
Collect all our thoughts
In a thimble cup.
Standing in this foyer
We’re afraid of what’s in there.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
It’s cold and it’s damp where I buried my love
so many years ago…
before I met you.
It stirs in the dark. This awakening corpse
from deep within the soil…
so hopelessly bound.
It grows in its tomb and with passion it longs…
then swallows once and dies
without knowing you.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Hold me.
Come on and Franken my life.
I’m not growing minutes. Slide me under the knife.
Fold me,
and strap me down to the slab.
Franken these things that I never had.
I’m floating in water and on air.
It’s this kind of cushion that’s my lair.
Hold me
in your electrical grasp.
I’m straining from the mouth. Won’t you turn on the gas?
Mold me
and pour out what I don’t need.
Franken my heart so it doesn’t bleed.
I’m inside a vacuum on the lawn.
It’s not quite the feeling that I want.
Put something inside it and then see
what comes out when you don’t move it
down to the next heartbeat.
Hand me down lies and I am so tired
but don’t be moving it out.
Hold me.
I’m falling… Lost in the Stars.
I passed Pirate Jenny and September’s not far.
Scold me
and teach me something that’s new.
Piece me together and tighten the screws.
I’m displayed in lacquer covered flames.
They don’t melt but look like they’re in pain.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Instrumental
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Sleep Knows No Melody
(Simpson)
I slip out of my clothes.
I slip under the sheets.
I slip off of the edge.
And I tumble to sleep.
Sleep knows no melody — it’s just a rhythm.
Sleep knows no sympathy — it’s not a woman.
Sleep knows no history — it’s unforgiving.
Sleep knows no harmony — it’s just a beat.
Have you ever laid down
and everything around you seemed so serene?
You close your eyes and, immediately,
your mind shows a graphic scene
of violence?
Relentless… and cold?
Sleep knows no melody — it’s just a rhythm.
Sleep knows no sympathy — it’s just a beat.
Have you ever, at night, awoke with a fright?
Have you ever been falling and woke up trembling?
Have you ever had cold sweats? Apnea? No breath!
You’re not alone.
We’re not insane.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
This kiss I place upon your lips will haunt me ’til I fall.
Of all the kisses we have shared, this kiss I will recall
when I catch a scent
of where you once had been,
or when I think I’ve felt your breath upon my neck.
Your smile’s a little awkward and your hair’s a different way.
But no one’s hand has modified the voice that I heard say
“Wouldn’t you like to be?”
Yes. I would like to be…
“Wouldn’t you like to be in here, inside of me?”
The darkness that surrounds you when the lid has sealed your sleep
Will only dim the present, not the memories I keep
of you and I, of love,
and what we’d both dreamed of.
And how, in better times, that never seemed enough.
And as I turn to walk away, I’m left where I had stood.
I’ve now become two entities. One spiritual. One blood.
You will always be…
No one else can be…
You will always be the one inside of me.
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Standing by happiness like a heartbeat that’s stopped again.
Walking on tenderness like a deep breath inhaled within.
Strippers are mistresses of a dignity
shackled in chains that were set by history.
Heaven and gentlemen have been known to call
women and circumstance by the name of God.
Listening to innocence like a deaf ear that’s turned away.
Talking to loneliness like a teardrop falling astray.
Lovers are recluses that don’t have the name
recluse to justify why they are insane.
Heaven and gentlemen have been known to call
women and circumstance by the name of God.
Languid in loveliness like a caress that’s gone and been.
Pulling at nervousness like a frail voice that calls you in.
Where’s my glove?
© grEGORy simpson
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the author.
Open Air Cafe
(Music: Simpson, Text: Martino)
You make your way to me.
We find two empty seats.
I think this is my favorite place.
Will you meet me there,
That little cafe, there in the open air?
If you have a care
We’ll fix it there, there at the Open Air.
Chocolate on a cloud.
We’re talking way too loud.
I think I’d rather read your lips.
Will you meet me there,
That little cafe, there in the open air?
If you have a care
We’ll fix it there, there at the Open Air.
She’s coming for my cup.
Don’t let her pick it up.
I think I’ll have a little bit more.
Will you meet me there,
That little cafe, there in the open air?
If you have a care
We’ll fix it there, there at the Open Air.
© grEGORy simpson & Val Martino
This song may not, in whole or part, be copied, redistributed, sold, or given away without the prior consent of the authors.