Track 8 of Future Ghosts.
london my lovesong
that ever sings itself
what are my needs?
laptop
sketch pad
wheat field
she curve
nothing else a fret for
plastic howl of
grave-bright stars
twin trees carve
their velveteen
gimme stub and soil
peroxide time
your chic
eighteen hole shriek
The music for this is taken from the unreleased Shamania-era Logos track[ / ] (yes, that was the title). It hasn't been released anywhere else in any form, though did appear on the Logos myspace player (and possibly other online music players - I don't recall) for a while.
The text was written on 23 February 2014, on a train from Waterloo to Guildford, after an evening spent with my friend and co-writer Simon Lewis, discussing our book Jack Palmer & The Unspeakable Thing. I was born in London, lived there until ten years ago. I still spend a lot of time in the place and have a great fondness for it, but am glad I no longer live there. The text had no particular inspiration, merely some thoughts after a good evening with a good friend and a few beers as my train slid through the night.
Currently reading: The First Day On The Somme - Martin Middlebrook
Currently listening: Bob Dylan - The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan