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Take Heart, It's Almost Over

by Mark McCabe

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1.
Let Go 04:49
6am. You can just see the light of the dawn through the life smeared panes. There’s never enough time to do more than clear away. Forge a path through the clutter and catch on up with the day. An endless struggle to just stay part of the race. Don’t despair. People rarely follow the path they thought that they would. Better to enjoy the trees than get lost in the wood. You can second guess till you’ve guessed your seconds away And died on the edge of a minute that’s lost in a day Let go. Take you pills. Take the edge off the pain and rejoice in the lay of the land. I use a crutch for support as much as the next man. I think everyone’s got that way they deal with the stress. To quieten the constant believe that we’re making a mess Let go. Cross your arms. Feel resolve in the steadfast belief that you’re doing your best Do what you can and make peace with leaving the rest There’s no shame in admitting the burden is too much to bare Shelter your faltering flame for as long as you dare
2.
The end is nigh or so it seems It’s been coming for a while but it’s definitely nearer than before So bolt the door and grab your crucifix or horseshoe and start polishing them up Because you’ll need luck. Or you’ll need God. And any other outside influence who cares to join our party We’ve got bread and wine for days. A sacrosanct coincidence with which to offer up your praise But there is nothing left to grow In this forgotten, fallow hole There is nowhere left to go Except this bricked up, bombed out home We’ve seen so much, but not enough A decade backlit by this fading light, an angelic aura glows It masks the dirt, and hides the cracks Shields the fuck ups and the weaknesses we clutch behind our backs Until we’re cursed, or so it seems Left to drown in the crescendo silence of our inner scream There is nowhere left to hide From this ever rising tide There is nowhere left to go Except this bricked up, bombed out home Except this mess that we call home
3.
Pass Me By 03:47
You declare that the game must have changed while you were away, but you’re just out of shape It’s rather sad to see you chasing a prize no longer there, the sweat’s in your eyes. You don’t know that it’s all over now. You stand alone on the field. Born a winner, but you lost and it hurts And life passed you by while you hid. You were barely a child the first time they took you away, your limbs black and blue Colour drains from your face even now thinking back to what they would do You built a fortress around your mind The only place you could heal Painted words high on every side ‘Don’t let life pass me by while I hide.’ Grab a pencil and outline the pain in your heart then colour it in. Hang it framed from the walls of your chest and watch it fade, as it starts the blend in. Till you’ll know that it’s there but you won’t now quite where and you’ll know that it’s time to move on. Yeah you’ll know that it’s there, but you just can’t say where, and you’ll know that it’s time to move on. Life became trashy novels and soaps long ago, it’s all that I need. It might seem from an outsiders view I’ve never moved, but age beats us all. If you’d seen what I’d done with my life, All the problems I’ve solved. You’d allow me to quieten my mind And let life pass me by whilst I hide.
4.
5.
I was scared of you today And I’m not certain but I think we lost our way Trapped between the give and take The halfway point between a fracture and a break I have chewed and spat it out Scraped it up and put it back inside my mouth Past the gristle and the grit I will chew until I find a place we fit We’re running ourselves into the ground I’m stuck down to this floor. I need to feel your hand pull me through that door I’m wasted but I’m wired Alive but living two feet from the pyre I’m healthy but I’m not A perfume worn to hide a hint of rot It takes everything I’ve got To climb to my knees I’m begging could you please lift me up? I have wondered where you are Wondered why you’d ever let it get this far An angry man afraid to die A stubborn anthem lost beneath a plaintive cry And I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can’t feel his grace The smoke is thick and the flames lick at my face I’m sorry, It takes so much just to grieve A life spent alive is the best that I can be
6.
meet me by the bridge you said but then you never came so i stood for hours waiting in the rain the landscape was a chequer board of green and brown decay and i wondered if it’d had always been that way its not easy to be upbeat when the world around is in chaos and you’re strapped into the seat but I’m trying, yes i’m trying to count my blessings like my mother wrote but it’s tiring, very tiring like trying to keep a sinking ship afloat come down to the town with me I know a cafe there they do pour overs with beans they roast themselves but no amount of yirgecheffe and caffeine magazine will change the fact you’re nowhere to be seen it’s not easy to be upbeat when your plane is in a free fall and you’re thrown out of your seat but I’m trying, yes i’m trying to count my blessings like my mother say but it’s tiring, very tiring like trying to find your way out of a maze I might never see you again, but that’s ok I must learn not to fear the rain, because i’m ok Let’s go climb a mountain we could see for miles around but a fog came down and blanketed the world stumbling through the nothingness i tried to reach the top knowing full well you wouldn’t be there when I stopped it’s not easy to be upbeat when all around is darkness and you cannot see your feet but I’m trying, yes i’m trying to count my blessings like my mother does but it’s tiring, very tiring like clinging to an idea of what was
7.
Eyesore 05:27
he couldn’t remember what it was before it was what it is it’s an empty shell, it’s an eyesore at the end of the green he’d heard how important it was before everyone lost their jobs it had been so much more than a broken door to piss against but time moves on and an industry now gone and 4 out of 15 who worked here lost their lives he was only 5 when the news broke like the waves on the beach but looking back he’s sure they must have seen it coming the storm clouds brewing in the sky, as one by one they dropped like flies families ripped apart when they realised they’d lost it all but time moves on and industry’s long gone and 4 out of 15 who worked here killed themselves by the time he was 10 things had settled down, most of his friends had moved to the town his best friend’s dad now worked the tills at co-op but drunk and angry on a Friday night, he would reminisce about what it was like to wrestle the seas everyday and come out on top they say that time kills pain and life is just a game but 4 out of 15 who worked here couldn’t take the shame. 15 now and all he thinks about is the fastest way he can make it out but they still meet there every Friday night to get stoned the next generation of young men, gathering right where their father’s met in that empty shell, in the eyesore at the end of the green but time moves on, and life repeats and some of the young men who meet here won’t ever leave he comes back now when he feels obliged, time has paused in his mother’s eyes but he feels nothing more than an emptiness and relief 20 years since his father died, dragged under by his macho pride and a world that was moving faster than he could keep up time moves on, and memories are gone but the eyesore at the end of the green still stands.
8.
The last time that we spoke, you yelled in my face For not helping you up and away from that place As illness tore down walls you designed long ago You were shocked and afraid of a friend turned to foe But I know you didn’t mean it I know you didn’t mean it You called me by my brothers name So I know you weren’t with it There’s a picture of you that I have on my phone In your favourite chair like a king in his throne Reading the paper with the cat on your chest You are trying to look annoyed but it’s bemused at best And I know you didn’t mean it I know you didn’t mean it You cried as we buried that cat And I’d never seen you do that McEwans and pipe smoke, two books a week Thousands of drawings of forgotten technique We watched that drift away and no one could speak You could see it and then it was gone We slept on the floor for days by your bed Any words left to say now forever unsaid Nothing was planned on the day that you died You did not leave a will, you had not even tried I hope you didn’t mean it I hope you didn’t mean it Tell myself it was just fear And I hope you didn’t mean it
9.
Swing your legs back over the ledge it isn’t your time yet I can see it in your eyes and the way they mirror mine But I’ve been talking around the block Drawing lines and taking stock of what I’ve got All the battles that I’ve fought and I’m getting tired Of wondering when we’ll stop and drag ourselves back from the drop To start again. Some days it seems like we’re too late That surely man much feel the weight of selfish acts As the whole world starts to crack Call it fate or just bad luck, A lack of planning from above it’s us to blame You can give it any name that helps you to sleep To shut your eyes again and pin it all on other men. It’s never you. But as we stare down from this ledge Every choice we have made stares back up Every promise never kept Every badly thought out cover up Harsh words hover in the air In the taste of the fear on our tongues Truth hidden by despair. There’s no glory in disrepair. There’s no glory in disrepair
10.
Interlude 01:56
11.
There’s not much of worth here anymore 10 years and counting since we locked up every door And there nothing to show what we knew Communion shared by a chosen few Now bowing beams, unburnished brass Ragged holes through coloured glass Dirt engrained in every pew Remnants of what’s left of me and you This building groans, it needs a break New walls, some paint and an architect But everything’s been left to rust A papermache layer of dust Tear down the walls, install the props Keep scraping back to where it stops And find out what is left in there A barebones structure and a hollow prayer Feeding the wolves scraps at the door A sacrifice of sorts won’t stop them wanting any more And you slice off bits of what you love Severed limbs won’t hold us up Begging for that one reprieve Justification of belief Footsteps shudder through the floors Coming for what’s left of you and yours This building groans, it needs a break New walls, some paint and an architect But everything’s been left to rust A papermache layer of dust Tear down the walls, install the props Keep scraping back to where it stops And find out what is left in there A barebones structure and a hollow prayer And what if we built it up again? Took it apart and made a start again? Could we bring about a change again? Is it ever worth the work?

about

I could not have made this album without the help of a few people.
Firstly thanks to Barry and Kat Dolan for lending me equipment and instruments and for pestering me to finally record these songs.
Thanks also to Ieuan Williams for extra kit and for the gentle encouragment.
Thanks to Ellen Cox for allowing me to take over the spare room and not killing me for asking her to stay as quiet as a mouse for the best part of 6 weeks.
Thanks to those who listened as I bombarded them with demos for the feedback and encouragement.
And finally thanks to Kenny who took on way more of a role in this album than I ever imagined he would. You did an amazing job of corralling my ideas into actual songs and never once lost your temper with my inability to record guitar in time. Thank you so much for all your work. It wouldn't be anywhere near as good without your input.

credits

released June 5, 2020

All songs written and preformed by Mark McCabe.
The album was produced and mixed by Kenny Leckie who also played various instruments, sang backing vocals, corrected my mistakes and generally made me sound better than I am.
C J Thorpe-Tracey played piano on '100 Seconds to Midnight' and 'Eyesore'.
Emily McDonald sang backing vocals on 'The Gristle and The Grit'
Mastering was done by Jonty Morgan.
The photo for the album cover was taken by me, the layout done by Sophie Mo.

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Mark McCabe Bristol, UK

Songwriter from the North east of Scotland.
Bristol based.

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