From the recording Only Losers Write on Bridges
One of my strongest childhood memories is riding on my Pa's shoulders to Hull Fair in late Autumn as his shoes crunched the fallen leaves. The smells and sounds are still there, even if the fair has shrunk somewhat in size. This song was first written in 2002 and has found another home - with a fresh vocal take - in this album.
Words & Music by Steve Dagleish © 2015. All Rights Reserved
Steve plays acoustic guitar, anything else you might hear and sings the lyric.
Lyrics
Angel to Ancient
Riding on your shoulders, fairground music in my head
Hands full of brandysnap and big wheels turning
Two heads in formaldehyde, Fletchers’ steak and kidney pie
Indian feathers, bow and quiver. Grandma’s beans that made me shiver
Blessed virgins in my dreams, Catechism’s twisted schemes
Fallen angels beating wings, in fading jeans
Smuggled notes and broken hearts, adult roles in moving parts
Parka jackets, denim hipsters, Redcar Jazz Club, Sonja Khristina
I am not a child, can you see the flaws in this design?
I am an angel turning ancient, can you hear the laughter in these lines?
Flying high on Bourbon Street, Cajun rhythms in the heat
Bible bashers, bareback riders, temples rising
Angel hands in village wells, siren voices, chanting bells
A flaming arrow flies alone, a burning boat will bring me home
I am not a child, can you see the flaws in this design?
I am an angel turning ancient, can you hear the laughter in these lines?