Bring Me Back A Pyramid

by The Bookshop Band

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    Insert printed by Richard Lawrence, case by Opal, case design and hand-folded by Ben Please

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1.
This is no place to hide your lights. This is no place to hide.
2.
Some say that travel Is like an escape Escape from your own self Escape from your own place A way for to find Another type of you Kang Kang burru! Chin Chin Noru! Run Run Run Kang Kang burru! Chin Chin Noru! Run Run Run So kiss the Blarney Stone for me And if you get the chance Give my dearest love ‘Oui Oui’ To the President of France Bring me back a Pyramid Or else a Spanish comb And don’t forget that I’m all set To welcome you back home And don’t forget that I’m all set To well come you back home Kang Kang burru! Chin Chin Noru! Run Run Run Kang Kang burru! Chin Chin Noru! Run Run Run
3.
I’m meant to fit right in To a box not made for my skin Small town, small town Forever waiting for life to begin Life starts when you’re very young Things we recall and where we come from Make us who we become What we run to and from what we run Sail away to escape this town Become another type of man Dark hides the love and light I still want to change this ground Hide me, hide me Life’s not the same when you’re not around And I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I love you, I hate you, I miss you, I love you, I hate you, I miss you. And I’m scared of you. You think you lost everything you’ve ever had Left with a breath and a fighting chance. To carry on, to carry on Always hoping to make a new start To carry on, To carry on I love you, I hate you, I miss you...
4.
A hollow type of conversation Elevated above the situation Sitting In a cool café A place made fake By our presence But my persistence to see through the Opaque Pictures portrayed, I take the unlit way Trying to escape The cliché A sad man stands Selling things that are Not in demand And strangers pass Cameras in hands Well greased to, ease through And where am I And why am I here And try as I might, well I can’t see through Must I always Hold this view Standing alone in crowd I take a photo of how The sun looks, now my home land changed By the perspective I must now take Standing alone In a strange land Held by strangers hands My logic grows loose like a dream The places that they take me Unconnected to these scenes And they play, in front of me Shapes change, my memory Is stained, reality Stays ingrained, with their shape
5.
I read a book about motorcycle stories In my room, in my room, in my room Without exception they are Quite amazing journeys I’ll finish it soon, I’ll finish soon, I’ll finish it soon A sense of freedom And them defining countries On their way, on their way, on their way Making roads that didn’t exist before them In their wake, in their wake, in their wake They didn’t know where they were going, when they started Oh what a life, what a life, what a life But I don’t drive, I can’t even afford glasses So how will I learn to ride, learn to ride? I get the sense that it was easier in the 50s Before my time, before my time, Before my time Adventure grade insurance cheaper in the 50s I’ll bide my time, I’ll bide my time, Bide my time At a pension-able age I’ll get my glasses Before I die, before I die, before I die I’ll learn to ride a motorcycle in my 60s Before I drive, before I drive, before I drive Before I drive, before I drive, before I drive
6.
It’s a miracle that all this docile Strength waits behind, One tiny lever for the pressure of my hand Face and lips, hit by tiny flying bits, bullet like, As we crash into the wind A cold cry, rushing, screeching past my ears, As the air careers into and either side, of my head, as it breaks, the air, And my speed snaps At the feast of road ahead. My surplus emotion expressed, extravagantly on the tarred blue road ahead of me And after a long day of restraint, Soon my bed would be laid down, But before, I’ll be pulling on my breeches And walking out that door, to my bike A couple of kicks, and its first glad Roar at being alive There goes that noisy bugger again, Someone would cry, every time, And off I’d fly My surplus emotion expressed extravagantly on the tarred blue road ahead of me He’s a son of thunder (whoooah) Lawrence of Arabia... My surplus, emotion expressed extravagantly On the tarred blue road ahead, of me Straight, empty and dry, Perfectly stretched out into the evening light With the yellow sun on my left, Our shadow stretching out on the right On our new road, Our flight became bird like He’s a son of thunder (whoooah) Lawrence of Arabia...
7.
There has not been rain For two years and a day The same for everyone With our spades to the ground We will do what we can In the dust, and the dry, and the sun There’s a place Where it rains, where it rains, where it rains Oh how we want to live there There’s a time to sow And a time to go A time to leave this land We’d have thirst for a beer If it wasn’t so dear We’ll get through this hand in hand There’s a place Where it rains, where it rains, where it rains Oh how we want to live there There’s a well, we are told Where the water has held But all is not so clear They say that past the rim There’s a deadly pool within And so we shan’t go near There’s a place Where it rains, where it rains, where it rains We pity the souls who live there Because the only thing that grows Is the little white rose And of that you must beware There’s a place Where it rains, where it rains, where it rains We pity the souls who live there
8.
Oh give me, give me hope, give me hope God, God he, he gives and he takes away The dark, the dark it tortures me, It tortures me I need, I need to talk to you, talk to you It rains, it rains And roses grow Singing one more step along the road I go One more step along the road I go The mad, the madness is pulling me, Pulling me The land, green as the wool, it’s unraveling, Unraveling, unraveling, unraveling It rains, it rains And roses grow Singing one more step along the road we go Down to the well, it’s the well that knows One more step along the road we go Down to the well it’s the well who knows Oh give me, give me a rope, that I can pull I’m searching, searching for something, Something to tell me it wasn’t you It wasn’t me, it wasn’t you, it wasn’t me Where is our love? Where is our love? You can have all of my love I won’t be needing it I will never, never stop Stop believing it It rains, it rains And roses grow Singing one more step along the road we go Down to the well, it’s the well that knows One more step along the road we go Down to the well it’s the well who knows
9.
A line In a space In a place, uncharted As I look at the face of you As I make my way To your boundaries I realise that if I trace the way I came Then others might Do the same And find you like I did And find you like, I did And I could mark the points of interest on your skin so They would see and I could join them in A pattern to make People find each place Of you I think is worth finding And as I look at the face of you I realise no one knows you like I do So I will make a map, Of where you start and end And I will show in line where you rise and fall And I will point it out in pen, The parts of you that lend, Themselves well to visiting And as I pass my map of you to my friend Well he gets it and he sees you like I do Well I guess not quite like I do Because I’ve marked you with my hand And I have walked you with my shoes And I have mapped you with my eye I have studied every inch of your surface and I know every undulation And as I look, at the face of you I realise no one knows you like I do But perhaps My little map Will give them a clue
10.
Twinkle Park 01:52
Before it gets dark There’s a game that we could play Let’s go to twinkle park It’s a hop and jump away You’ve got to get around the park It’s a circular route from the end to the start You cant walk, because that’s no fun You’ve got to get around, on just one (leg) If you land on two I might just be better than you Watch me as I hop through Twinkle Park Twinkle Park So we hop very high You score less the more try A little like golf, but here you fly! In Twinkle Park “I got 44” “Well I guess you need to practice more, Cos I got 38, a bit better than you” “But not that great, because I once got 17” “Well I heard that you were cheating” We’d better head back to the start, In Twinkle park

about

Songs inspired by stories of wanderlust and place, featuring a reading from Peter Please and a performance from Patrick Gale (cello).

credits

released August 3, 2016

Tracks 2, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10 written by Ben Please, Beth Porter and Poppy Pitt. Tracks 1, 3, 7 and 8 by Ben Please and Beth Porter. Track 1 features extracts written by Peter Please, used with his permission. Tracks 1, 3, 6, 7 and 8 recorded at Chelvey Court. Tracks 2, 4, 9 and 10 recorded at Ashley Manor. Track 5 recorded at The Cloisters (Bath). Additional recording at Christchurch (Rode), Peter Please’s house, Patrick Gale’s house, Jools’ house, Pete’s house and at home. String arrangements by Beth Porter and Ben Please.
Mixed by Ben Please.
Mastered by Marco Migliari
All artwork by Peter Beatty (www.peaterbeatty.co.uk)
Case design by Ben Please
Cases printed and cut by Opal Print, inserts by Richard Lawrence, disks by Key Production.
Those who were directly involved in the production of the album include Marco Migliari, Peter Please, Patrick Gale, all the musicians who played with us, Brauner microphones and Louis Austin, Microtech Gefell GmbH microphones and Sound Link Pro Audio, Leigh Haggerwood, James King, Richard Evans, Will Cookson, Steve Belgrave, Mike Hillier, Grace Designs, Stuart Bruce, Chris Hughes and Ashley Manor, Universal Audio, UA Digital and Source Distribution, Realworld Studios, The Wigtown Book Festival and The Open Book, Nigel and Jackie at Rave Box Studios, Owen Benson, Anna Botterell and Andrew Hooker Violins, Keith Lunt and co. at Opal Print and Richard Lawrence. Big thank you also to Caroline Waterlow and Ashley Harrow.
Thank you to all our Patreon supporters, past and present, including James Patterson and Alan Squire Publishing, and our amazing song sponsors (see tracks for details). Special thank you to Peter Beatty for producing our beautiful cover art. We’re very grateful and in awe of Nic and Juliette Bottomley and ALL the staff at Mr B’s Emporium of Reading Delights in Bath for curating our reading and managing our path through the literary world. And finally, to all the wonderful authors who have inspired the songs on this album, a big thank you.
THE BOOKSHOP BAND

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The Bookshop Band Bath, UK

The Bookshop Band write songs inspired by books and play them in bookshops. They started as a collaboration between a group of musicians in Bath and their local independent bookshop, Mr B's Emporium. Now they are about to go on tour, sponsored by Vintage Books and Independent Booksellers Week, around other bookshops and lit fests. Catch them if you can. Details at www.thebookshopband.co.uk ... more

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