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lyrics

The air in here is filled with a sense of forcing movement
I hear avoided questions inside these hollow spaces.

Beneath the lights the dead can come alive
With bright young eyes
But still, they're dead inside.

Your lips are forming words that I cannot hear
But I understand every word.
Their expressions are hidden by the distance
With intentions as stale as the air we breathe.

And now I have lost my tenuous sense of self-control
Everything I want to say escapes with no struggle at all.

Beneath the lights you have beautiful eyes
The sounds around us become harmonious.

Your lips are forming words that I cannot hear
But I understand every word.
The shallow waters I tread are turning black
As they evaporate from beneath my feet.

credits

from Regiments, released December 1, 2008

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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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