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In The Court Of Conscience

from Recorded At Rocker's: Beau by Beau



Not only weapons wound. Words can kill as sure as the sharpest blade. In fact, they often do a more efficient job. Words can kill the soul…


With the cold eye of a soldier and
The cold hand of a surgeon and
The cold and calculating mind of
Someone from Intelligence,
I walk along the city street
Assassinating all I meet;
My crumpled uniform, once neat,
Is now in disarray.

Breezes blow my hair at will,
Their wayward passage to fulfil
But they can never pierce the heart
And kill the way a deftly wielded
Knife, or yet a sharpened barb,
Well turned and twisted can succeed;
For words will never make you bleed
But only fade away.

I found this weakness in the heart;
Remorselessly tore it apart,
But that was when my uniform
Was smart and pretty in the glittering springlight;
When my words so clear
Fell, curdling the bitter beer,
And dripped into the waiting ear
’Til silence ruled that day.

And when the slaughter was complete,
Another fool had found defeat
And still my hands were soft and
Even sweet inside the glove that played
The drumsticks on the soft and kind.
It took a military mind
To sentence silence as the blind
Went tapping on their way.

With the cold eye of a soldier…
With the cold eye of a soldier…


from Recorded At Rocker's: Beau, released November 3, 2014
© C J T Midgley
Published by Cherry Red Songs
Original release on “2012 Annual” (Fruits de Mer Records)


all rights reserved



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Eclectic music label based in Bristol, UK. Specialising in short run limited editions that nevertheless shift very few copies. Local Underground is Rocker's baby, baby.

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