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lyrics

The terrible sound of the constant alarms that are sounding for the end of our lives.

As I sit in these alleyways
Where the open ends are a cracked dawn chorus
For those who have disappeared
And have left these openings for our returning ways.

Shaped by the winter, as the scales descend from our resplendence
Shaped by our anger, and the broken descent from our dominance
Into our own salted earth.

And I dance to a melody
That has broken, wavered and turned its joy
Into that which is descending
Into every sentence once uttered in duress.

credits

from In Broken Morse Code, released September 9, 2009

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The Contortionist London, UK

The Contortionist is me, Andy Hirst; usually alone, but sometimes with friends. We even had a proper band for a while (The Contortionist and The Wandering Boy Poets).

I've been in a load of bands over the years playing various things: drums in Nixon, The Broken Chairs, and The Purgatory Players, guitar in Situationists, guitar/keys/vocals in Japanese Sleepers and Fall Forwards.
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