Silvio Vinci

THE BLOOM (reworking by Silvio Vinci with SUNO)

I used to leave the curtains drawn,

Let the phone ring on and on.

A cup gone cold beside the bed,

Whole conversations in my head.

You came round to get your things,

Your favourite coat, your silver rings.

We sat down on the kitchen floor.

You stayed a little longer than before.

You made me laugh,

It caught me by surprise.

I’d almost lost

The sound of it inside.

Something’s opening,

Something’s coming through.

I can feel it in the room

When I’m sitting close to you.

Let the morning in,

Let it find us where we are.

There’s a little colour coming

To the quiet of my heart.

Let it bloom.

Let it bloom.

You asked if I still took my tea

The way you used to make it me.

I said, “Some things are hard to change.”

You smiled and moved your cup away.

We took a walk to buy some bread,

You talked, I listened, turned my head.

The street was loud, the sky was grey.

I found another reason you could stay.

Your hand brushed mine,

We let the moment last.

For once I didn’t

Have to pull it back.

Something’s opening,

Something’s coming through.

I can feel it in the room

When I’m sitting close to you.

Let the morning in,

Let it find us where we are.

There’s a little colour coming

To the quiet of my heart.

Let it bloom.

Let it bloom.

There are things we need to talk about,

I know we’ll have to take our time.

But when you reached across the table,

I left my hand beneath your hand.

We watched the light move up the wall.

I didn’t watch the clock at all.

Something’s opening,

Something’s coming through.

I can feel it in the room

When I’m sitting close to you.

Let the morning in,

We can take this as we are.

There’s a little colour coming

To the quiet of my heart.

Let it bloom.

Let it bloom.

Leave the curtains open.

Let the daylight through.

I’ll put the kettle on.

There’s still a cup for you.

THE GREEN HEDGES

(reworking by Silvio Vinci)

You found a gate behind the roses,

I could have sworn it wasn’t there.

You smiled and slipped between the branches,

Left a little daylight in your hair.

The houses leaned across their gardens,

Their windows turning to the sun.

We heard somebody call for dinner,

But couldn’t tell which way to run.

Through the green hedges,

Out of the afternoon,

You pull back the branches,

I come following you.

There’s a place in the middle

Where the sky comes through.

Through the green hedges,

Everything feels new.

Your yellow coat was full of summer,

You shook it out across the lawn.

A tiny band beneath the flowers

Played a tune I’d known before.

You said, “I think we’re going in circles.”

I said, “I think you might be right.”

We passed the gate we’d left wide open;

It had grown another side.

Through the green hedges,

Out of the afternoon,

You pull back the branches,

I come following you.

There’s a place in the middle

Where the sky comes through.

Through the green hedges,

Everything feels new.

Somebody’s mowing the edge of the sky.

We watch the blue fall down.

You brush a cloud from the sleeve of my shirt

And lay it on the ground.

Through the green hedges,

Out of the afternoon,

You pull back the branches,

I come following you.

There’s a place in the middle

With a perfect view:

All the little gardens,

And a hundred me’s and you’s.

Leave a little gap in the green.

Leave a little gap in the green.

Somewhere we can slip between.

Leave a little gap in the green.

THE CASHIER’S BIG ASS (a reworking of an original instrumental track by Silvio Vinci)

[Spoken intro]

I came in here for bread and butter.

That’s all.

Now look at this line…

Quarter past five at the corner store,

Bell went ding when I hit that door.

Milk in my hand, loose change in my jeans,

She was workin’ that register, cool and mean.

Gold hoop earrings, a paperback book,

Caught me twice on the very same look.

Said, “You buying something, or blocking my aisle?”

I dropped my change. She cracked a smile.

The cashier’s big ass!

(I forgot my change!)

The cashier’s big ass!

(Had to look again!)

She said, “Eyes up here, boy,

Tell me what you need.”

I said, “A loaf of bread.”

She said, “White or wheat?”

Went back Tuesday for a can of beans,

Wednesday came — needed magazines.

Thursday bought a little piece of cheese.

She said, “You got a hungry family?”

Friday night, I wore my good brown shoes.

She said, “You buying those groceries two by two?

Save yourself a trip, make a list sometime.”

Then she wrote her number on the back of mine.

The cashier’s big ass!

(I forgot my change!)

The cashier’s big ass!

(Had to look again!)

She said, “Eyes up here, boy,

Tell me what you need.”

I said, “What time you finish?”

She said, “Half past three.”

“Price check!”

(On what?)

“That fool in the brown shoes.”

(Oh, him?)

“You gonna stand there all night?”

Might do.

“You gonna buy me dinner?”

Like to.

“Then put that basket down.

I got things to do.”

Half past three, she turned the key,

Took off her apron, handed it to me.

Said, “Carry this, since your hands are free.

And tonight, you keep your eyes on me.”

The cashier’s big ass!

(She caught me looking!)

The cashier’s big ass!

(Now something’s cooking!)

She said, “Eyes up here, boy,

I don’t ask twice.”

Yes, ma’am, I hear you.

Where you wanna eat tonight?

Bread and butter…

That’s what I came for.

Left with her number,

Went back for more.

“Hey — brown shoes!”

Yes, baby?

“You forgot your groceries.”

Keep ’em till tomorrow.

THE BALLAD OF THE MONSTER THAT EATS ALONE (2 parte)

(Redux)

Silvio Vinci

He wears his Sunday suit to dine,

Complains about the cheapest wine.

The kitchen’s cold, the staff have gone;

He rings the bell and carries on.

The first course cost a field of wheat,

The next one took the whole damn street.

He sends it back: “A little more.”

There’s someone scratching at the door.

Feed him the town, feed him the shore,

He wipes his mouth and asks for more.

He eats the world down to the bone—

The monster always eats alone.

He used to keep a second chair,

Then sold the wood and called it fair.

He ate the orchard, bought the rain,

And charged the roots to grow again.

He calls for music, calls for light;

The house repeats his words all night.

He sets a place for someone new,

Then eats the empty chair there too.

Feed him the town, feed him the shore,

He wipes his mouth and asks for more.

He eats the world down to the bone—

The monster always eats alone.

Pull up a chair.

Put down the knife.

Leave something breathing

For once in your life.

He’s eaten the town, he’s eaten the shore,

He wipes his mouth and asks for more.

There’s nothing left now but his throne—

The monster still eats alone.

The monster still eats alone.

ONE STEP OVER, reworking of Threshold & Richness

Silvio Vinci

Five steps down from a crowded street,

I felt the floor beneath my feet.

The man who took my money smiled:

“You look like you could stay awhile.”

A woman laughed and took my wrist,

Said, “You don’t want to sit through this.”

I tried to say I couldn’t dance;

She never gave my words a chance.

One step over,

One step through.

Let me lose an hour with you.

No directions,

No demands—

Just the rhythm in our hands.

The drummer dropped a stick and grinned,

Then caught the beat and settled in.

You missed a turn; I missed one too,

And nearly knocked somebody’s drink.

I’d spent the week rehearsing lines,

Explaining why I had no time.

You asked me what I had to do;

I said, “Another dance with you.”

One step over,

One step through.

Let me lose an hour with you.

No directions,

No demands—

Just the rhythm in our hands.

All that counting,

All that keeping score—

I left it with my ticket

At the door.

One step over,

One step through.

Let me lose an hour with you.

No directions,

No demands—

Just the rhythm in our hands.

One step over…

Stay for one more.

I left my hurry

At the door.

AFTER THE BELL

Silvio Vinci

Chalk on my sleeve, mud on your shoes,

You had a song you swore was blues.

We took the long way through the park

And talked of playing after dark.

Your brother’s amp, a broken lead,

A borrowed room was all we’d need.

They told us, “Think about next year.”

We only knew the night was here.

After the bell,

Out in the street,

You brought the trouble,

I brought the beat.

They had our names,

They had our time,

But the rest of the day

Was yours and mine.

You took a job across the sea,

Left half your records here with me.

We missed a summer, then a year;

You had your reasons, I stayed here.

Last week you called me out of the blue,

Said, “I’ve still got that tape of you.”

We laughed about how rough it sounds.

You asked if I still played in town.

After the bell,

Out in the street,

You brought the trouble,

I brought the beat.

They had our names,

They had our time,

But the rest of the day

Was yours and mine.

Come down on Friday,

Bring that guitar.

We’ll start with the old songs

And see where we are.

After the bell,

Back on our feet,

You bring the trouble,

I’ll bring the beat.

Open the windows,

Give us a sign.

There’s room for your voice

Right here next to mine.

After the bell…

One, two, three—

You bring the trouble.

Leave the beat to me.

LET IT BURN SLOW

(A Reworking of an original instrumental track, Flare Burst And Taper, by Silvio Vinci)

Your coat is hanging by the door,

Your boots have marked the kitchen floor.

The record skips; you let it play.

You say you’re leaving. Then you stay.

A passing car lights up your face,

Your fingers trace a coffee stain.

You reach across and take my hand;

Outside, the street fills up with rain.

Let it burn slow,

Let it burn low.

Stay through the morning—

We’ve got nowhere to go.

You talk about the place you left,

The books you sold, the ones you kept.

I tell you how I learned to pack

And leave before somebody asked.

You fold the map and put it down,

The early train is leaving town.

I turn the record over, too,

And pull my chair up next to you.

Let it burn slow,

Let it burn low.

Stay through the morning—

We’ve got nowhere to go.

I know the flash,

I know the fall.

Give me the quiet

After it all.

Let it burn slow,

Let it burn low.

Stay through the morning—

We’ve got nowhere to go.

No need to go…

Let it burn slow.

**NICE CRUNCH**

*by Silvio Vinci*

Last bus gone and the street still warm,

Your old red coat hanging over my arm.

Behind that door, beneath our feet,

Somebody’s bending a straight-line beat.

Nice crunch — let it bite,

Put a little gravel in the velvet night.

Nice crunch — let it roll,

A little dirt, a lot of soul.

The jukebox coughs and the ceiling shakes,

You move like someone who loves mistakes.

You leave your shoes by a broken chair

And draw slow circles in the smoky air.

Nice crunch — let it bite,

Put a little gravel in the velvet night.

Nice crunch — let it roll,

A little dirt, a lot of soul.

Nobody asks what you do all day.

Nobody cares what you couldn’t say.

You lean in close as the lights turn blue:

“Let it get a little rough on you.”

Nice crunch — let it bite,

Put a little gravel in the velvet night.

Nice crunch — let it roll,

A little dirt, a lot of soul.

Nice crunch…

Let it roll.

A little dirt…

A lot of soul.

**MOVE THREE**

(a reworking of an original instrumental track by Silvio Vinci )

They painted morning on the wall

And sold us back the rain.

My mother keeps a forest seed

Where they erased her name.

Move three — under the wire,

Bare feet, black earth, bone and fire.

Move three — out of the line,

They own the clocks, but not our time.

The loudspeakers are teaching birds

To sing without a sky.

We press our ears against the soil;

The buried drums reply.

Move three — under the wire,

Bare feet, black earth, bone and fire.

Move three — out of the line,

They own the clocks, but not our time.

One for the hunger,

Two for the fear,

Three for the heartbeat

They can’t hear.

One for the ashes,

Two for the stone,

Three for the forest

Inside our bones.

Move three — under the wire,

Bare feet, black earth, bone and fire.

Move three — out of the line,

They own the clocks, but not our time.

Move three…

Let the roots grow…

Move three…

Below, below…

THE GLOBALIST

[A reworking of the original instrumental track by Silvio Vinci.]

Your money crosses borders,

Your fences stop the poor.

You toast to peace at dinner,

Then sell another war.

You wrap a flag round hunger,

Give the hungry someone to blame.

Two boys in different uniforms—

Both dying for your gain.

How many graves

Before you’ve had enough?

You sell the fear,

We pay in blood.

You count the money,

We bury those we love.

You buy the morning headlines,

Put a price on every word.

You make the truth sound dangerous,

Then make a lie feel good.

You teach us that our neighbours

Are the wolves outside the door.

When both our houses turn to ash,

You sell us bricks once more.

How many graves

Before you’ve had enough?

You sell the fear,

We pay in blood.

You count the money,

We bury those we love.

Look at the man you taught me to hate:

He’s got my father’s eyes.

You promised both of us a future,

Then sent us here to die.

You sell the fear,

We pay in blood.

You count the money,

We bury those we love.

You sell the fear,

We pay in blood.

You count the money,

We bury those we love.

Globalist…

Count it again.

Every number

Had a name.