Fairy Tale

My Hand and HEart

All These Things - Song Lyrics

"This song is about certain things that have shaped my life, how specific emotions, memories and feelings can be identified in objects, people and even the way your body has been made or distorted throughout your life time. This song is about facing death, living life, traveling, exploring, self realization and family connections (wether they be good or bad) and never forgetting to acknowledge the factors, in life, that make you who you are."


Verse:
The oil painting on my wall stands alone
Depicting a rocky out crop from the sea
It's the thing you left for me.
And in the corner of my room there stands a guitar
Graffitied in distant memories of when I
Travelled the great ocean road.

Chorus:
All of these things that I own
Each have their stories to tell
Each strike an emotion
Deep within my soul

Verse:
The scars across my chest are a legacy left
By a tumor that crushed my heart and lungs
In the year 2004.
And the hair that grows so thick above my head
Once fell like autumn leaves right to the ground below
When the drugs set in.

Chorus:
And everything that makes my body up
Each have their stories to tell
Each strike an emotion deep within my soul

Verse:
The fingertips that play this guitar today
Were past down through the bloodline of my mothers side
But thats all she gave to me.
But by my fathers side I never felt alone
With my sisters and my nieces that I love so much
I know they'll be there for me.

Chorus:
And all of these people I know
Each have their stories to tell
Each strike an emotion deep within my soul

Outro:
With the setting moon comes a rising sun
Another day is born
And as the years go on I'll grow old and grey
But never will forget
The things that made me, me.

Old Friends - Song lyrics

Old Friends




Verse:
I woke up on a sunday morning feeling kind of blue
Another weekend choked with cigarettes and sin
And all these strangers that I call my friends
Are just figures of a misspent teenage youth
And I'm sorry, I'm sorry
But I've had enough, had enough

Chorus:
Old friends fade into the past
They fade away
Yes old friends fade
It's just a part of growing up

Verse:
Its come to the forefront of my mind
That all we have left in common is
A fridge full of beer, a playstation three
And stories of the past but no new anecdotes to date
And I'm sorry, I'm sorry
But I've had enough, had enough

Chorus:


Verse:
I can't go on, living life this way
Trying to be someone I'm not
And I know we've been good friends
For a life time now, but sometimes people grow apart
And I'm sorry, I'm sorry
But I've had enough, had enough

Wittenham Clumps - A short piece of prose.

Wittenham Clumps.

I follow the path, through flocks of nervous sheep, over frozen grass to the pinnacle of Wittenham Clumps. Rolling green hills with snow capped peaks stretch fourth in abundance before me, and in that very moment, I am swept away in the undulating flow of Mother Nature. Such beauty I have not encountered or perceived for some time now, yet it is right here on my doorstep! I take a few moments to comprehend and with great countenance, I admire the elegant artistry of this magnificent piece of countryside I call my home.

            I stop to sit upon a near by bench, where I take some time to correlate my thoughts. I find myself being ever more drawn to nature and the flow of the world at large. I watch red kites hovering overhead, searching, scanning, and scrutinizing the hills for a stray mouse or rabbit that has let its guard down. I watch the river, flow beneath the horizon glistening in the midday sun and the flood plains drenched to its east bank. I contemplate the nature of the grey temperate clouds, that hover overhead in their ever-changing visceral complexity and I am happy to be here amongst nature, pondering the rhythm and flow of life.

Leaving the river to run, the kites to hunt and the clouds to brood I head fourth on my journey towards the near by forest. The woods of Wittenham Clumps are surely a marvellous spectacle to behold. I meander, slowly and thoughtfully, between great oak trees that rise as giants above my head. Their spindly canopies, devoid of leaves, frost bitten in crisp winter air, looked like the very fingers of Jack Frost himself. I feel the cold, crisp, brittle crackle of fallen autumnal leaves beneath my feet, the forest floor laden with patchwork of orange, brown and yellow is A homage to the season past,. Fallen trees branches litter the forest floor, each soaked in draping of the greenest moss I have ever seen and at that very moment, I catch a glimpse of a row deer, running scared, scurrying into the distance, certainly panicked by my lumburous, noisy footsteps.

I stayed there, at Wittenham Clumps, for many hours and I will go there many times again. I felt a great affinity with that place and I truly believe that Wittenham Clumps, will forever contain and foster a piece of my heart.

Anthony Whitehead