1. |
Welcome to My Gallery
03:59
|
|||
So you want to be an artist?
Are you ready for some times
of pain and madness?
Welcome to my gallery
of failed ambitions.
Pull up a chair and pipe
and muse upon your greatness
before you worry about the bills
and the void,
the indifference,
the scorn that awaits.
Welcome to your quest for something
worthy of your name,
your quest to seize the best,
of your soul's marrow.
Take your oil and your earth
and run to a grave of glory.
Will you pay the price?
Will you pay the price?
Welcome to my gallery.
|
||||
2. |
Frans Hals
03:11
|
|||
When you gonna paint me with your satin brush?
When you gonna flick my big moustache?
Are the frills I'm wearing really to your taste?
When you gonna make my clothing paste?
Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals.
Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals.
Paint me as your mother in her rocking chair.
Show me every strand of silver hair.
Dress me in formica if it suits the scene.
Melt my lacy spirals into cream.
Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals.
Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals, Frans Hals.
Break me into fragments of a broken day
Yellows turn to black
What will come of you
Frans Hals?
|
||||
3. |
The Laughing Cavalier
01:48
|
|||
I like to canter on my horse
out where the air is clear.
I wear a hat with a feather, I'm
the laughing cavalier.
In pink frilly knickers I sing with joy
my heart could not be freer.
I point at people and chortle, I'm
the laughing cavalier.
I get so lonely
in the evening
I wish I had a friend
I think "If only
someone could know me,
could see the special me I hide inside!"
At home I browse the Internet
and buy a fruity beer.
I burn my bills with a smile for I'm
the laughing cavalier.
I grin at all the business men
who call the prices dear
and ride into the sunset like
a laughing cavalier.
|
||||
4. |
Girl Reading a Letter
02:32
|
|||
Girl reading a letter
in the morning light.
Girl reading the letter
that he wrote last night.
It's over.
It's over.
It's over.
It's over.
It's over.
It's over.
It's over.
It's over.
Girl reading a letter
at an open window.
Girl reading a letter.
Time to let him go.
|
||||
5. |
Autumn's Shadow
03:49
|
|||
I'm draped in your shadow,
hiding from the world,
frightened by my thoughts,
frightened by your thoughts
or silence;
I am sorry
for my letter,
for my thoughts,
for your tears.
I was a leaf,
lost in the wind.
I needed someone
to protect me from a sky
that was broken by someone else.
In my transparent form
I can kiss with loveless lips,
wish comfort for your tears,
say sorry for my secret
goodbye.
I am sorry
I lacked courage
to tell you
when last we met.
I was a leaf,
now I am autumn's shadow.
You will remember me
more than I you.
Seal every good memory
in the acorn of these words.
|
||||
6. |
Nature Morte
02:16
|
|||
7. |
Cotán
03:16
|
|||
I'm praying
by the moonlight,
the icy moonlight
that's burning through the window of my
cell, and I hear god speak
in whispered codings
the slow unfoldings
that spiral from his heaven
to my hell.
In my lust
I paint his luscious bulbous bounty
before I bite it.
Before I bite.
Then in repentance
I paint his children
they light the darkness
but even their electric skin
can't soothe my soul.
So I'll keep praying
by the moonlight,
the icy moonlight
that's burning through the window of my
cell.
|
||||
8. |
||||
Hey, I'm Tycho Brahe noseless astronomer.
Wide brimmed, copper skinned I pose like a foreigner.
Nobody knows what it's like to have no nose like me.
I gaze at the moon an orb of serenity.
I look at the stars and feel them look back at me.
What can I find in the universe to unwind with my mind?
Inside my hall of stone,
beneath the golden claws of dome,
I seek to understand his plan,
I seek escape.
And I, in vaulted space
and free from Earthly care,
my body whole,
my mind at peace,
can see God's eye
watching us live and die.
Brush my starry eyes with dust of eternity.
See my many wives they pour love all over me.
Count up to ten, take a telescope to bed then, my friend.
|
||||
9. |
The Lace Maker
01:35
|
|||
I put this thread here.
I put this thread here.
I put this thread here.
I put this thread here.
I put this thread here.
I am the lace maker.
Let me map your cares with webs.
Let me soothe your worries
with my silks of fate,
the complicated pattern
in which we're trapped,
little fly.
Little butterfly.
|
||||
10. |
||||
And so I sit
in the dark for a bit.
I give a glance,
you see my face, not my stance.
My head's a whirl
but soon enough it's clearing.
I am the girl
with the pearl earring.
I look ahead
clad in my blue and yellow,
and not in red,
so specified that fellow.
And with a curl
he makes my face endearing.
I am the girl
with the pearl earring.
The men may gaze
like staring is in fashion,
but I'm not fazed
I will dispel their passion.
I'll give a twirl,
and laugh away their leering.
I am the girl
with the pearl earring.
|
||||
11. |
Rembrandt
03:20
|
|||
I touch your hair
with tender care
my Saskia
as I roll you in crisp linen sheets to sleep.
We have no money!
I haven't got the nerve to tell you.
Money!
The curse of human industry;
so sleep my darling baby,
dream of happy pasts,
I will lie awake
and worry
for us both.
I press you near,
release a tear,
my Saskia,
as I pray to God for providence to shine.
I wish for money!
I don't know how we're going to make it.
Money!
The jester who controls us all;
so sleep my darling baby,
the silver of the glass,
the amber of the lake
will speak
when you wake.
|
||||
12. |
The Legend of Zurbarán
04:04
|
|||
I know I'm poor,
a pile of rags and bones,
a shadow of a beast,
a broken robe,
but I was an artist once.
I was an artist once.
You will ignore,
as I ignored the rats
around me as I toiled
about my pain,
but I was an artist once.
I was an artist once.
I bet you think you could have
been like me, but better.
Pity my bones!
Bless my rotted teeth!
My failure is your spark,
but I'm not envied, just beaten.
Not envied, defeated.
You just wait until I die, then
a true legend is born!
So be inspired.
Love my gentle works.
Weep at my broken life
of madness
but I was an artist once.
I was an artist once.
|
||||
13. |
Art For Me
03:04
|
|||
There's no time for me.
There's no place for me.
There's no love for me.
There's no life for me.
There's no hope for me
of escape, there's only
art for me.
There are no people for me.
There are no friends for me,
but there are passions for me,
and pretends for me.
There are dreams
of getting better, being seen
within the scene of me.
There's no sleep for me.
There's no money for me.
There's no rest for me,
only worry for me.
There's no end
except infinity, there's only
art for me.
|
Mark Sheeky Crewe, UK
Mark Sheeky is a surrealist artist from the North of England. His music began as synth, game influenced, music then experimental classical piano and art rock/art pop, and surrealist rock music.
Streaming and Download help
If you like Mark Sheeky, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp