TELLING ME LIES

(© 2016 John Harley Weston, Indy Clark & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
Set in a pub/bar this song is about losing your loved one to someone else and drowning your sorrows in alcohol, or perhaps it's the other way around.

this is as good as it gets, one more and I'll go
friends talk, their voices surround me
but I can’t hear a word
last call for more alcohol, one more for the road
you better take my keys off of me
cause I’m drowning in sorrow
i suppose life’s to short to wallow
might as well have another swallow
and another, then another

i’ve been making such as fool of myself
and you’ve been knowing why
while I’ve been thinking of nobody else
you’ve been telling me
telling me lies
yeah that’s right

barman says he’s been there before, make this your last
i twist the cap off a beer and I pour it in to the past
i’d never seen such a beautiful face smiling back at me
but now I’m watching as she leaves in someone else’s company
ah but life’s too short to wallow
i’ll get in another swallow, then another, and another, and another

i’ve been making such as fool of myself
and you’ve been knowing why
while I’ve been thinking of nobody else
you’ve been telling me
telling me lies, lies
oh nothing but lies

back home there’s nothing to drink and I stare at the walls
the room spins and I’m feeling sick, sick to death of it all
is this as good as it gets, will I ever know
i lie still and the silence surrounds me but I hear every word
every word I hear, circling in my ears
oh no, no, no

i’ve been making such as fool of myself
without even knowing why
while I’ve been thinking of nobody else
you’ve been telling me, telling me lies
oh I’ve been making such as fool of myself
and you’ve been knowing why
while I’ve been thinking of nobody else
you’ve been telling me
telling me lies
telling me lies
been making such a fool of myself
you've been telling me
telling me lies

GO HARD OF GO HOME

(© 2016 John Harley Weston, Susan Higgins & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
This is about drinking again (mmm, bit of a theme going here), tequila this time. It's a tongue in cheek look at the inner battle with one’s mischievous alter ego who loves the booze.

follow me
follow me in to the bottle
something I’d like you to see
over yonder, there lies my sanity
well I lost it in a fight between myself and me

i think I’m going crazy but I could be going nuts
been crying like a baby and talking to myself too much
pass me my bottle, cause this sucks

go hard or go home, stop wasting my time
go hard or go home, quit squeezing my lime
i’ve got my work cut out, drinking margaritas
pour two more tequilas
go hard or go home

well I drink with him out of the bottle
yeah I know he’s bad company
but my alter ego ain’t got no sympathy
i keep wrestling with myself
he keeps trying to get the better of me

i think he’s going crazy but he could be going nuts
my alter ego’s waving the finger at me
you’re drinking too much
pass me my bottle, cause this sucks

go hard or go home, stop wasting my time
go hard or go home, quit squeezing my lime
i got my work cut out chatting up angelina
yeah I’m looking more handsome with every margarita
tell brad pitt, I’m never gonna leave her
two more tequilas
go hard or go home

yeah go hard or go home
yeah go hard or go home

there’s no worm at the end of this bottle
but something made a real ‘mezcal’ of me
and his Montecristo don’t smell so heavenly
oh Tequlia Gold, I know, you’re a fool’s discovery
i’m smashing the bottle, cause this sucks

go hard or go home, stop wasting my time
go hard or go home, you know I’ll be fine
i’ve got my work cut out, debating God with Jesus
now I’m talking to myself, down the big white telephone
please leave your message after the tone
two more tequilas, go hard or go home
pour two more tequilas, go hard or go home
pour two more tequilas, go hard or go home

WHEN TOMORROW COMES

(© 2016 John Harley Weston & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
Again, started this one many years ago and only recently finished it. This is about the figurative battle between two people as a relationship becomes weary and scarred, perhaps fuelled by one’s alcohol intake in previous songs.

pages are burning
a love story’s dying
warning words fired
like cold mercenaries for hire

then shots ring out, loves under fire
friends that once cared, now conspire

how can we be civil
when our world is in the middle
of a war against itself
where no-one wins and no-one cares
i fail to understand it
it’s not the way we planned it
perhaps it all will be revealed
to you and I
when tomorrow comes

old guns reloading
shells of pain exploding
wounded and wild
like a lost motherless child

then shots ring out, loves under fire

how can we be civil
when our world is in the middle
of a war against itself
where no-one wins and no-one cares
i fail to understand it
it’s not the way we planned it
perhaps it all will be revealed
to you and I
when tomorrow comes

your eyes say hold me
but you back away so slowly
a flag of truce raised
we surrender, both of us dazed

then shots ring out
love’s under fire
rescue is what we require

how can we be civil
when our world is in the middle
of a war against itself
where no-one wins and no-one cares
i fail to understand it
it’s not the way we planned it
perhaps it all will be revealed
to you and I
when tomorrow comes
oh, perhaps it all will be revealed
to you and I
when tomorrow comes

BETTER LUCK (Salt and Light)

(© 2016 John Harley Weston & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
Inspired by Ross Kemp's television show Extreme World about Glasgow's homeless.

she’s had trouble dealing with her failures
she’s had a right skinful of hurt
living on the streets now for too many years
oh she’s starting to feel like dirt
she was only nine when the damage was done
her mother's partner's hands to blame
now she's living rough, trying to kick her habit
she’s gonna get off the game

better luck is bound to come
better luck is bound to come
better luck is bound to come her way
(repeat)

she Left her three kids living with her mother
now she’s skippering under a bridge
it gets so cold here in the middle of winter
this dear old town can be a cold hard bitch
but is it any wonder she’s fallen through the cracks
in today’s society
when we all close our doors, turning a blind eye
just another homeless junkie

better luck is bound to come
better luck is bound to come
yeah better luck is bound to come her way
(repeat)

honestly
a little bit of luck is all she needs
some salt and light would kill the weeds

then the Housing give her an apartment
and with it come tears of change
maybe she can beat the system
get to see her mum and kids again
from her eyes, salt and light
spring to fill the ditch
she’s got hope now, running through her veins
hope is like being rich

now better luck is bound to come
better luck is bound to come
oh better luck is bound to come her way
(repeat)

MUSIC MAN

(© 2016 John Harley Weston & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
I started writing this in 1993 but only recently finished parts of it. It's about my journey in music, the highs and the lows, from major label deals to busking in markets, from Europe to Australia, it’s a long twisted road but it’s been a colourful journey...

this whole town is like a painted desert
this whole town is just a fading dream
well I look to the west and to the east
and I wonder which way is home
a music man never knows the answer
a music man only knows the score
i’ve travelled the road sixteen summers long
slightly behind the tempo of life
on a minor melody’s journey, mmm

this whole scene is like a dry oasis
this whole scene is just a gold mirage
i’ve played to the south and to the north
now I wonder, what is it really all worth
a music man can never find harmony
a music man may only hold the key
i’ve travelled this road sixteen winters long
through the prelude of my life
on a minor melody’s journey…mmm

i move where the rhythm takes me
play my songs from town to town
on busy streets all I see are shiny shoes
i’m a music man, come gather round
yeah I’m a music man, come and hear my sound

i left my home in search of something
i left my home, had something all along
i found the sun but I lost the moon
now I wonder why my life’s so out of tune
a music man never knows he’s reached the end
a music man only knows to rest
i travel the road and distant music still guides me
through the rock and roll of life
on a minor melody’s journey, yeah

i move where the rhythm takes me
play my songs from town to town
oh people please, won’t you slow your shiny shoes
i’m still a music man come gather round
yeah I’m a music man, lay your money down
i’m a music man, come and hear my,
come and hear my, come and hear my sound

once I wore a broach of celtic heather
once I wore a more thickened skin
now my blood runs thin without my band of brothers
and the warmth of the sun only kindles memories of others
a music man can’t always see the comedy in his tragedy
a music man can see the irony in life’s parody
how I long to taste sweet malted barley
with friends who once knew me
on a counter melody’s journey, yeah yeah

i move where the rhythm takes me
don’t like to tread the same old ground
though fame and fortune have forsaken me
i’m still a music man, come gather round
yeah I’m a music man, lay your money down
oh I’m a music man, come gather round
yeah I’m a music man, come and hear my,
come and hear my, come and hear my sound
 

RIVER OF HOPE

(© 2016 John Harley Weston & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
I started writing this in 2003 but only recently finished parts of it. It's about asylum seekers or 'boat people' as they're referred to in Australia.

the river of hope
the river of hope

i live on the island by the river of hope
i'm thankful for what I am given to cope
but few of us know what danger’s in scope
as we do our best to navigate the river of hope
disharmony is mutiny, together we are strong
forget about blame, who cares who is wrong
aboard this boat we all belong
if we set a course together we just might get along

never seen so many people in a hurry
never seemed to notice before
maybe I'm getting softer
maybe I'm getting old
maybe I'm getting weary
as I sail the river of hope

now the wind is howling and the river's on the rise
buildings crumble and planes fall from the skies
the storm has loosened family ties
but hope, she never dies
people cry for asylum but they can't board our boat
says our captain below deck as he pulls up his coat
yes it's cold out there but we've got no room to spare
send them back where they came from
but tell them we really do care

i’ve never known this many people to be angry
never meant this much to me before
maybe I'm getting softer
maybe I'm getting old
maybe things are getting clearer
as I sail this river of hope

captain says, steady as she goes, steady as she goes
keep her steady as she goes
though where we're heading no-one knows
then he falls to his knees and he prays
how many souls should I save

oh Lord remember me
the fog has fallen and I cannot see
how to guide my boat to shore
how to give just a little more
my hopes are tied, my heart's disabled
my body's weak and my mind’s unstable

i’ve never seen so many people in a hurry
never seemed to care much before
oh maybe I'm getting stronger
maybe I'm getting bold
maybe I'm getting wiser
as I sail, oh as I sail
this river of hope
i think it's time we changed our course

WHY SHOULD I CARE

(© 2016 John Harley Weston & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
As hard as life is for us in the 1st world, there are others who are much worse off. Bombarded with images and requests for help on social media, television and radio, from those less fortunate than us, we have become somewhat numb to their pleas for help. We’re all guilty to some extent but the situation can be helped if our leaders lead by example.

turn on my tv, press the remote control
turn up the volume so I can hear
the whole world is asking me, all we need is a little more
all we need is your money, so we can help the poor

contrast what is that for
if it’s not to show the difference
between good and bad, rights and wrongs
the mute button I know for sure
i use that when I can’t listen to the news any more

oh I’m not listening, I’m not watching
they’re not my friends, this is not my problem
can’t make me care, life is not fair
i’m just making a living, trying to get by
surely I’ve got a financial alibi
why, oh why, oh why, why should I care
because I am here and they are there

turn off my tv, turn on my radio
tune in to something I can feel
Bono is telling me, get off your ass, get up off your knees
we can house the homeless and feed the hungry

power what is it for
if it’s not to bridge the distance
between what’s live and what is dead
EQ I know for sure
wont make the news sound any better than it did before

so I’m not watching, I’m not listening
it’s not my fault we’re all born so different
can’t make me share, life is not fair
i know they’re barely living, skin and bone
but I need a new laptop and a new iPhone
why, oh why oh why, why should I care
because I am here and they are there
i am here and they are there

turn off my radio, get on the internet
in the search for news that’s real
Charlize Theron shares with me
Facebook posts, Twitter commentary
one good individual soon becomes an army

well I’m liking, I’m friending
retweeting, what’s trending
share it if you like it, it if you like

now I’m listening, I’m watching
but I don’t know how we solve this problem
why do I despair, what point is there
i’m no famous musician, no Hollywood star
it takes strong politicians to raise the bar
oh why, oh why, oh why should I care
because I am here

making a living, trying to get by
surely I’ve got a financial alibi
i need a new lawnmower, a new chainsaw, a bigger shed,
a roof over the back deck, a 55 inch tv
why should I care
because I am here and they are there

BYRON BAY BLUES

(© 2016 John Harley Weston & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
A reggae blues song about traveling in my old car to one of the greatest music festivals in the world, Byron Bay Bluesfest.

grab my old guitar and my book of songs
leave my coat behind, put on my Billabongs
throw my big black bag in my Bluebird sedan
i’m not gonna stop, until I feel the golden sand
(are we there yet…)
i hear the beach is cool and the music crazy
the crowds are wild, all funky skunky fazed
and the streets are lined with a tie dyed haze
you can trade in your rhythm greys

for some Byron Bay Blues
are we there yet
byron Bay blues
are we there yet

across the border, on Pacific Highway
follow green, green signs, leading to Byron Bay
the gearbox whines as if to say
hey Johnny I’ve had enough today
(are we there yet…)
turn up my radio to drown out the sound
25 years of motor, run hard into the ground
but what is this music that I’ve found
gotta tune out the rhythm browns

put on some Byron Bay Blues
are we there yet
Byron Bay blues
are we there yet
Byron Bay Blues
are we there yet
Byron Bay Blues
are we there yet

just when I thought I’d have to hitch a ride
DJ says here’s one with a little bit of slide
suddenly the engine was purified
she said, ‘I might be old but I’ve still got some pride’
(are we there yet…)
and that’s why I’m here peddling my song
if we’re on the same highway, kick off your Billabongs
and ease your foot off life’s gasoline
we can zone out on some rhythm green

or try some Byron Bay Blues
are we there yet
Byron Bay Blues
oh, are we there yet?

GHOST OF MODERN TIMES

(© 2016 John Harley Weston & Sandy Jones, All Rights Reserved)
About stress induced insomnia caused by the feeling one needs to keep up with modern technology in order to stay current, and the general worry that can lead to depression, having to provide for a family in these modern times. I started writing this in 1997 but obviously hadn’t lived enough, until now, to finish it.

i saw a face outside my window
such a withered face I’ve never seen
i put my head under my pillow
trying not to dream, trying not to scream
when I was young I had some nightmares
but scenes like these I’ve never seen
this ghost of modern times just stares
they’re haunting me, taunting me
wanting me, get behind me

isn’t it time I slept a little easier
isn’t it time I raised my head in the morning
and felt a little better deep inside
and freed myself from the ghost of modern times

i feel so weighed down by technology
though I know it’s no substitute for art
all modern times become ghosts eventually
but a song remains a part of life’s beating heart
up to my neck in a pit of worry
this crude black darkness shrouds my thoughts in bile
i toss and turn, old bones to bury
digging deep to smile
where do they keep my smile
it must be in this pile
i wish they’d let me sleep a while

isn’t it time I slept a little easier
isn’t it time I raised my head in the morning
and felt a little better deep inside
and freed myself from the ghost of modern times

i fear that I am running out of time
like a tired sprinter who can never reach
an ever moving finish line
life has thrown me boulders
and I’ve lost my joie de vivre
i know I should roll back my shoulders
build a wall to stand upon so I can see
future without struggle
some money in the bank
a wee bit of hope for my family
surely not too much to ask
for what I’ve got I’ve already given thanks

ah but life doesn’t owe me, I must remember that
when I see others who have nothing
i feel my desire’s laced with greed and fat
so maybe, just some breathing space is all I really need
so I can lay to rest this ghost of modern times
and finally get some sleep

i wish they’d let me sleep a while
i wish they’d let me sleep a while
so wake up
i wish they’d let me sleep a while
come on wake up

isn’t it time I slept a little easier
isn’t it time I raised my head in the morning
and felt a little better deep inside
and freed myself from the ghost of modern times

I'LL HAVE ANOTHER ONE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH

© 2013 John Harley Weston all rights reserved
Not a song, just a cheers to my friends….

one should always make time for the hops and barley
with friends like Klaus, Indy, Bob, Ross, Cam, Ray, even Charlie
for when work is done and the life's race is run
the memories distilled at the local inn recall the most fun
swaying the mug, on slainte and friendship we'll feast
as we order more laughter and cajolery before we're deceased
it is this we'll remember with fondness of heart
while they ready the grave and call on the cart
so I'll have another one thank you very much
yes I'll have another one, friends, thank you very much

----------------------- 

REMEMBER WHEN

(for my old friend Klaus Kastberg)
© 2018 John Harley Weston / John Higgins. All rights reserved

Is this it?
Or is there more?
We’ll never know standing on life’s shore
Gazing toward sunset’s gore

With memories, just memories
Nothing more
Remember when?

As ripples of water never end
Surely your energy cannot expend
Though your beating heart stops it still echoes my friend

With memories, great memories
Remember when?

And beyond these waves of muddy sand
Do clear waters lead to pasture land
As grains of time slip thru your hand
Like answers you forgot how to command

But memories, memories
They make land
Remember when?

And here rainforest limbs climb to the sky
And green red parrots teach us to fly
By planting roots while stretching wings
We can reach higher than mere earthlings

Making memories, memories
And the heart sings
Remember when?

Is this it?
All these people?
Remembering a man as right as a steeple
As our eyes are thread thru grief’s circular needle
And we stitch up time to mend our feeble

Memories, memories
Ah, remember when?

Rich and strong his laughter lingers
Just yesterday you shook his hand and felt his fingers
Grip you tight or touch your shoulder
There must be more to this life, this fight
Than simply getting older

Leaving memories, just memories
It seems much colder
Remember when?

Though today our glasses are filled with sadness
Let’s raise a toast and recall the gladness
To have known a man who touched each of us with fondness
And share stories of an old Viking artist

What memories, sweet memories
Remember when?

-----------------------

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE (HAMMER AND CHISEL)

© 2021 John Harley Weston / John Higgins. All rights reserved.
(For my dad, Allan Higgins and the fine people of the Bonnet Toun, Stewarton, Ayrshire, Scotland)

I’m an old bricklayer
and I love this town
it’s strong and sturdy
of great renown
its footings are built
on solid ground
its mills once made
industrial sound

aye the mills may be gone
but we still weave the future
every act of kindness
like a surgical suture
pulls our town together
fulfils our duty
strengthens the fabric
of our society’s beauty

what we’ve learnt from the past
has built a better future
where equality is paramount
from cotton worker to butcher
let no-one be a slave
and no-one a master
that’s how you build a fair future faster

hammer and chisel
bonnet and thistle
the viaduct towers
bringing trains with a whistle

when you’re looking to the future
tip your hat to the past
for it’s there you’ll find the blueprints
of a town that’s built to last

hammer and chisel
bonnet and thistle
church bells ring in
many new years and this'll

continue the story
of the bonnet guild toun
and its people who came
from all aroun’
some became farmers
and some moved ground
some were born here
and some were found
from the wilds of the moors
and the city overspill
to dip their feet in the annick
bridesburn, cuts burn or corsehill

so when you’re looking to the future
dip your toes in the past
that way the bonnet toun
and it’s good people
are sure to last

aye i’ve crafted steps and wa’s
and a fireplace or twa
for my friends and acquaintances
here in stewarton you know
built for the present, the future and a’
they’ll be here long after I’m awa’

and when you’re driving the bends
of the auld glesga road
or coming roon the corner
fae killie or kingsford
fae fenwick, dunlop, irvine, kilmaurs
spare a wee thought
for what came before us
not just horses and carriages
but the characters and scholars
men, women and children
built the future for a’ us

aye this past year
tested us all for sure
covid 19 lockdown
has been a future detour
but now we’re back on the tracks
moving slowly again
and it won’t be long
’til we come roun’ the bend
the vaccine rollout
is bringing hope my friend
we can see there's light
at the tunnel’s end
lay on macduff, there it is, amen
its stewarton, the bonnet toun, dae ye ken

hammer and chisel
bonnet and thistle
castle turrets rise
protecting all on this hill

fae robertland estate to the cross
and lainshaw to cairnduff
to the rolling fields and its people
i really can’t say enough
raise a glass if you can
to those here or long gan
at the mill house, smugglers inn
or the stewarton arms

hammer and chisel
bonnet and thistle
the pink purslane flower
blooming in the spring drizzle

here’s looking to the future
while tending to the past
to the bonnet toun people
you’re made to last

and it widnae be fair
tae forget avenue square,
the bowling club bar, the chip box
and piolis traditional fare
for without it what are we but bare
‘tis the people who make a place somewhere

and finally
when we unmask the mask
and send the virus packing
what will we ask
for the simple things
that’s all we need
a friend’s hand to shake
an embrace to give
some plans to make
and a life to live

swing my hammer and chisel
wear my bunnet and thistle
build tomorrow today
as I singalong and whistle

hammer and chisel
bunnet and thistle
pass me my trowel
and i’ll cement this epistle

let’s keep looking to the future
while we’re listening to the past
looking to the future
with a keen eye o’er the vast
this i know
the bonnet toun will surely grow
when we work together
for the good of others
we’ll be forever unsurpassed

© 2021 John Higgins

------------------------

VOICES

(© 2022 John Harley Weston. All Rights Reserved) Single release same year

VERSE ONE 
walking through these lonely streets
reminds me of a time 
when we were young 
and found that midnight seat 
in George Square 
 
TWO 
beneath the shadow of
Sir Walter Scott 
out of the darkness comes a punk mohawk 
his German Shepherd
straining at the leash
 
THREE (no mini run up)
well I was scared but you were not
as first dates go it was quite a lot 
I said man, can’t you see 
I’m trying to impress 
my future wife
 
FOUR 
well he’s desperate 
but he’s thinking twice
his eyes reveal a life of vice 
and I’m about to roll the dice
when I realise
 
PRE-BRIDGE
careful now, careful now, careful now
 
BRIDGE
in another universe
it was just the two of us 
and I could see way up ahead
into a world full of happiness 
 
FIVE
this is no ballad of a valiant knight 
if I can I will avoid a fight 
turns out I know the guy
he used to live around the corner
 
SIX 
He says he’s just done time
and that fails to reassure us
I let out a whisper, halle-bloody-lujah
look up to all the stone scholars
for enlightenment
 
SEVEN 
in an evil hour with a crimson tipped flower
his Kilmarnock bonnet wielding such a holy power
the bronze of Rabbie Burns addresses me 
one peasant to another
 
EIGHT 
he says
a man’s a man for a’ that
shall brothers be for a’ that
auld lang syne and a’ that
travel safe my brothers 
  
PRE BRIDGE
careful now, careful now, careful now
 
BRIDGE 
in another universe
it was just the two of us 
i could see right up ahead
into a world full of happiness
  
CHORUS
and i hear the voices
they never stop, they never stop, they never stop
telling me, telling me, telling me
hold on, to what you got
‘cause you got is loved
  
NINE
in a cigarette or two it was glad to meet ya
we threw his dog a bone of pepperoni pizza 
funny how the future
can be re-written
 
TEN 
now we’re none the worse for wear, in fact
our lives and dignity are well intact 
and some would say we’re better 
for the encounter
 
ELEVEN 
well I fell in love with you  
right there and then 
truth be told I knew it when 
i first laid eyes on you 
in that hairdressers’
on the Broomielaw
 
PRE-BRIDGE 
careful now, careful now, careful now
 
BRIDGE
in another universe
it was just the two of us
and I could see way up ahead
into a world full of happiness
  
CHORUS
and I hear the voices
they never stop, they never stop, they never stop
telling me, telling me, telling me, 
hold on, to what you’ve got, 
‘cause you got loved
  
TWELVE 
We watched him walk in to the night 
his mohawk dancing with the light 
across the square
towards the city chambers 
 
THIRTEEN 
at the Cenotaph he bowed his head
remembering all our heroes dead
and i swear i saw a soldier 
giving him some whisky and bread
 
FOURTEEN 
the recumbent lions shook their manes 
and pride surged through their granite veins 
yes a clash avoided is a clash that’s won 
  
FIFTEEN 
this unlikely recruit, is free to run 
because of them he’s not the only one
in this ballad for the lonely
let’s raise the flag and lower our guns 
 
SIXTEEN 
well I walked you back to your hotel
kissed you softly while the morning bells
were ringing out in Kelvinside
and down Great Western Road
 
SEVENTEEN
and as I was driving home I thought
how lucky I’d be if I only got 
one chance in life and this was it
to love you
 
PRE BRIDGE
careful now, careful now, careful now
 
BRIDGE
in another universe
it was just the two of us
mmm, I could see right up ahead
to a world full of happiness
 
REPRISE...
 
EIGHTEEN
well I’m glad to say it all worked out
it’s 30 years later an’ I’m about 
to ask you if you’ll marry me 
darlin’ will you marry me, again?
  
NINETEEN
And here today with our own kin
her blue hair reminds me of that punk again
I wonder if he’s standing there 
still bletherin’ with the statues in the square
 
CHORUS
I hear the voices 
they never stop
they never stop
they never stop

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