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© 2017 Grasscut Music

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Lyrics and Music: A. Phillips

"never more;


Never more.

Only the high peaks hoar:

And Aragon a torrent at the door

No sound

But the fall of the tread of the dead

To the ground of the hall 

No sound:

But the boom

Of the far waterfall like doom."

— Tarantella by Hilaire belloc, , recorded 1932 —


Hold the slide up to the light, and see the place

The wind blows, screams and moans

Chills you to your hollow bones

And knocks you to the ground

And the water rushes down

Cuts through stone, teeth and bone

Whites of eyes, froths and foams

And wraps you in a cloud


And the drip drip drip 

Of the water cold down your back

Cold stone deaf your breathing edges to black

White white noise white white light forcing you back


And the sing sing sing of the spray and the wavelengths of light

Every one suspended in the blink of an eye

White white noise white white light edges to black


Hear it now. Listen.

Hear it now

Over the high wind's cry

On the wet, wet ground

No sound

In the walls of the halls

Where the fall of the tread 

Of the feet that are lead

To the ground

No sound

But the roar of the waterfall.


Taken from the 2015 album, Everyone Was A Bird

Buy/ hear the album