Paint a Picturesque

by Deer Thomas

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released October 10, 2016

Written, recorded, and performed by Rupert Hill-Hayr @ The Spare Room, Foxton, New Zealand



Track Name: The Swan
Dance me to the end of time,
where darkness brings the pure light.
If you're there in the sublime,
I'll admit I'd be delighted.

How can I explain this, if you will?

Until then in my heart,
or, at least the hole where a heart should be;
there is love (torn apart),
it beats alone inside me.

How can I let go, if you please?

There's a hole in my heart.
There's a hole in my heart.

And I don't want to get over it.
Nor I want to get over you.
Uh uh (oh no), tell me now, what am I to do?

Some say love is like a swan,
it finds its place by tranquil waters.
But my love birds gone left the pond.
Repute ties as someone's daughter.

How can I lose this?
Can you, darling?

For what's a pond without its swan?
A stagnant surface - a distill?
As life below continues on,
life above is ever still.

How can I let this simply be?

Because I don't want to get over it.
Nor do I want to get over you, oh no.
Tell me now what am I to do, huh?

Greetings, salutations.
I'm feeling isolation, when every night the mourning comes too soon.
Sleeping in my bed, and I'm dreaming of you instead,
reminding how I long for you and I.
Track Name: Celestial
You've got stars in your eyes,
and plenty of time before the evening changes all of that.
But hey, that time will come.

A polaroid tiger sits on the dashboard, nurses young in static.
A devil in sound, (through the audio), tells of psychotic antics.
Speaks of poison that will glisten with predisposition.
And of a love that will break your heart.

The engine is gunning through the rainfall, though the din is a drone.
For the drumming, (now in heartbeats), is dubbed chaperone.
By the poison, (not volition), or a premonition,
we call it 'love' as we fall apart.

If we keep heading this way, we'll hit the coast by morning.
Like two wayward ships, we'll be smashed agains the rock.

We're not getting out of this, no way - no how.
Don't go kidding yourself.
This here one lifetime, but one last time.
The twilight zone itself.


We are two troubadours on nights like these.
With no use for metaphors with lives such as these.
And what good is medicine with minds such as ours?
We've no use for medicine, we've eyes like hours -
we've seen it all before.

We've moved slow through the ages with tortoise shells.
Held our breath when we went underwater.
Carried our weathered homes, whistles and bells.
Caught our breath when we came up for air.

Track Name: Mountain Rose [ambient]
Suspended in the snow,
side-to-side in juxtapose;
there's a line of mountain rose.
Born of cold, there it grows.

When sunlight burns no eye,
moonlight takes the sky.
Immobilizing its natural life.

They're threatened by nature, but on it they rely.
With a delicate balance, it should come as no surprise.

Heleborus Orientalis can grow only so high,
as it reaches for the sky.

When sunlight burns no eye,
moonlight takes the sky.
Immobilizing its natural life.

Its leaves turn white, (petals too), beneath the snow.

Now into the clearing a footstep, soft as the falling of snow.
A young deer has entered the valley, in search of a mountain rose.
Between its teeth a luxury a flower did never know.
A beauty to the eyes a flower could never grow.

Now grow tall in essence, though the gnashing of teeth.
In the mouth of the deer, soon eaten by wolves,
as they howl at the moon - oh-oh-oh-oh.


We're threatened by nature, but on it we rely.
With a delicate balance it should come as no surprise.

Suspended in the snow,
a mountain rose grows, then it dies.
It doesn't fight it, nor does it cry, (cry out for light).
No fear to die.

When sunlight burns no eye,
moonlight takes the sky, immobilizing.
It's all part of life.
Track Name: Masquerading Bones [experiment]
Row, row, row.

You could hear the revelry in resonating tones.
Shaped into a triple lick on beat up saxophones.
There's a drunk at the piano, with his skin burnt to a crisp.
Stuck inside the lion's den with a cheetah on his toes.

Got struck with a ripe tomato, right between the ears.
Called his driver on the telephone, and left out the back stairs.
Threw the dog a cold potato, playing musical chairs.
Got into the taxicab with a man of many years.

He said,
"you are but an energy, masquerading bones,
once naked in the hospital, a bag of brittle bones.
But even in the shadow of the heart is bliss.
Deep inside the lion's den, with you upon the stove.

It's all about the way you see it.
Just a tune, and how you play it.
You are the centre of the 'verse.

Row, row, row.

If we damned the Father, we put him in a papaerback.
We gave him a name, we gave it a name, we gave it the name.

We damned the Mother until she learned to dance.
Monroe in her underpants at the hot-rod rally show.
We burned that hetero - sexual, we put her on a screen.
Whydies Ofabody called it, 'Jolene Holey'.
Track Name: Try to Understand
What did I say more than anything else?
Girl, I love you.
And what did I do more than anything else?
Try to understand you and I, to better myself.

There's a hummingbird in the garden even now, saying, "hey low".
Singing, "what did I feel now more than anything else, sorrow".

But what did I feel now more than even sorrow?
Sorry, for you and I, because I miss you.
Track Name: Higher You
Moving and reeling this way and that.
Drink red wine, drag a cigarette through the mud.
Then I reach out and touch someone,
if they'll make me feel completely numb.

Now, I'm asleep.

It feels that I walk alone, I know I don't.
But I've felt this way when I'm around you all.
When misery loves her company,
and I'll love anything distracting me.

From this point in time, and this vacuum void.
And this point of mine?
Well, it say's nothing of you, and it say's nothing of me.
But hey I've said it anyway.

My dear lover, where have you gone?
I'm par asleep I forget.
I've spent half the night now,
dreaming a thief who steals fairytales.

Tall and handsome, and he's wrapped in light.
A pleasure to the eye.
Should you meet him, you'll spend half the next day,
trying out what it's like to walk on air.

From the soiled, into the sky.
I'd hoped I'd be there with you.

From above the ice-capped sea,
I salute a higher you.

A higher true.
Track Name: Paint a Picturesque
When all your love turns to hate,
the devil make care at any rate.
Then again, maybe he won't?
You'll have to wade out and see.

Then once again, hate turns to love.
Then the cycle begins again.
The devil may care at any rate,
but then again maybe he won't.

Don't we all paint a picturesque?
Seal the fixtures of our current convalesce?
Tip the scales with our finesse?
Then miss the point of the bleeding obvious - huh?

And don't we all drink to pettiness?
All hailed providence, the worship of the flesh.
Go weigh your scales on that wedding dress.
Soon you'll be disappointed by the wounds that you'll undress.

Then pretty soon love turns to hate.
You're devil may care at any rate.

I'm alive in this moment.
You're alive in this moment.
It's something we should remember.
It's something some try hard to forget, with little success.

Let's not hesitate to admit, we're sick of our own shit.
You're not the only one feeling irate.

Now don't we all question reality?
Walk on eggshells in the presence of esteemed?
Stab their backs in our darkest dreams?
Because we wish we were so blissfully redeemed.

And don't you all call that the easy way out?
Us paper tigers on our little paper route.
Snap at heels, bite the hand that feeds.
A razor's edge just to see what makes us bleed.

Pretty soon love turns to hate.
We're devil may care at any rate.

I'm alive in this moment.
You're alive in this moment.
It's something you should remember.
It's something I try hard to forget, with little respect.

Let's not hesitate to admit, we're sick of our own shit.
You're not the only one feeling irate.
Not by any chance I bet, but that's just it, it's all around.

Hate, hate, hate, hate.
Track Name: Arm's Length
Oh we like you at arm's length,
but keep your palms outstretched.
Should we fall.
Should we need a friend.

Yeah we like you where we can see you,
but keep your eyes closed.
They like you in the darkness best.

Hush now, don't say too much.
We'll only give it away, as we do the likes.

Hm, we don't approve of your isolation,
but don't get too close, should you sense our intentions.
You're a piece of flesh, nothing more.
Picturesque at the click of a button - the flick of a switch.

I guess what it boils down to is:
what can you do for us?
I guess what it boils down to is:
what can you do for us?

Can you knuckle down and get the job done right?
Can you quit looking up, and look (dead) ahead,
and get down here with the rest of us.

I think I've found the right questions!
Have you ever stepped naked into the sunlight?
What I mean is, have you ever stood barefoot in the moon's shadow?

Have you ever lost your 'identity'?
What I'm saying is, have you ever said farewell to your sense of 'self'?
And all its principals?

Derobed layers.
Derobed layers until there's nothing left.