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lyrics

The windowsill; the parapet; the edge of our great hollow world
So beautiful, but my sympathy's pragmatic in its great hollow worth.

Shifts in our culture as seen through this black coloured lens
Scrawled from memory
Become a stunted old revelry
So let us please forget this.

The windowsill; the parapet; the edge of our great hollow world
For decades in these corridors we stumble across this great hollow earth.

A thousand lines decay by the hour
And here I stand, a brash innocent
Waiting for portraits to right themselves
So we can all forget this.

And innocent stood waiting for time
And this will paralyse the passage of time
Paralysed in waiting rooms that blind with their neon lights

Stumble down these corridors.

credits

from In Broken Morse Code, released September 9, 2009

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about

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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