Sync Different

THE LYRICIST’S LAMENT

Music by Sebastijan Duh
Lyrics by John Greaves

I was asked to write a song
I said “Easy,” it’s “easy peasy”
Just find a word at the end of the line
Then you gotta make it rhyme
With love and stars above
It won’t take you very long

But I found out that I was wrong
Wasn’t thinking, had I been drinking?
Words don’t fall like rain from the sky
But a lot of little jewels
Like tiny molecules
Could grow up to be a song

Try to sing it using verbal dexterity
You can wing it schmoozing perfect sincerity
You could be climbing a stairway to heaven
Once you’re up it you’ll be stuck like a puppet on a string

So we’re coming to the end the conclusion
No illusion,
This little story’s hit the end of the road
And it’s just a bunch of sounds
To please the ear
So nice to hear
And you got another job
Done and dusted

FARMER GIRL

Music by Julien Vega
Lyrics by John Greaves & Julien Vega

HERE ALL ALONE IN THE CORNFIELD AT NIGHT
THE SKY’S FULL OF STARS
AND THE MOON’S SHINING BRIGHT
IF ONLY I COULD FLY OFF LIKE A BIRD,
FLY AWAY, FLY AWAY, LIKE A BLUE BIRD.

Chorus

I’LL BE DANCER TWIRLING AROUND
AN ACTRESS, A SINGER, A BEAUTY QUEEN CROWNED
MY FACE WILL BE SEEN IN EVERY MAGAZINE
FROM PARIS TO L. A.
FROM NEW YORK TO BOMBAY
FARMER GIRL, FARMER GIRL, FLY AWAY ! (DREAM AWAY)

MY MA AND PA BOTH WORK HARD ON THE LAND,
I DO MY DAMNEDEST TO LEND THEM A HAND,
I COULD NOT STAND ALL THE STRUGGLE AND STRIFE
FARMER GIRL, FARMER’S WIFE…NOT ON YOUR LIFE.

Chorus

I JUST CAN’T LIVE LIKE A BIRD IN A CAGE
EACH DAY THAT GOES BY SEEMS MORE LIKE AN AGE
INTO THE NIGHT SKY AWAY I WILL FLY
FLY AWAY FLY AWAY LIKE A BLUEBIRD

I’LL BE DANCER TWIRLING AROUND
AN ACTRESS, A SINGER, A BEAUTY QUEEN CROWNED
MY FACE WILL BE SEEN IN EVERY MAGAZINE
FROM PARIS TO L. A.
FROM NEW YORK TO BOMBAY
ALL THIS I’LL ACHIEVE
CALL ME NAÏVE
BUT I BELIEVE
DREAMS CAN COME TRUE

ES:

no me busques más que estoy cansa'
ya no tengo tiempo pa' tus dramas de sofa
ya no tengo voz para dejarte algún mensaje
ya no tengo riego solo siento un desencaje

estoy desencaja'
no quiero morirme pero si ver el nirvana
soy la Tego Calderon de esta triste balada
el García Lorca y el Calderon de la barca

solo hace teatro
esto es un teatro
ya no siento na'
la catarsis se evapora en cuanto tu te vas
las horas se vuelven flojas metete cristal
por si se te pasa
sad girl aficiona'
por si se te pasa
mis conspiraciones son teorías a estudiar
ni si quiera estoy segura de si me vas a llamar
búscame a las doce en el parque de prosperidad
no se si son mis demonios o eres tu
o es lo mismo, que mas da
que mas da

tengo los bolsillos desgastaos
de tanto meter mano y no sacar taja', no sacar taja'
solo trozos de astillas que me hacen sangrar

siete notas siete colores
siete días fumando polen
siete aros que me he comprao'
siete vírgenes he rezao'

siete notas siete colores
siete días fumando polen
siete años de mala suerte
mi materialismo es mi muerte



EN:

don't look for me any more, I'm tired
I don't have time for your sofa dramas any more
I don't have a voice to leave you a message
I don't have irrigation anymore I just feel a disjoint

I'm disjointed
I don't want to die but I want to see the nirvana
I'm the Tego Calderon of this sad ballad
the Garcia Lorca and the Calderon de la barca

it' s just theater
this is a theater
I don't feel anything anymore
the catharsis evaporates as soon as you're gone
the hours become sluggish get in crystal
in case you get over it
sad girl amateur
just in case you get over it
my conspiracies are theories to be studied
I'm not even sure if you're gonna call me back
look for me at twelve o'clock in prosperity park
I don't know if it's my demons or you
or it's all the same, what difference does it make
what difference does it make

I've got my pockets worn out
from so much reaching in and not getting any slice out, not getting any slice out
just pieces of splinters that make me bleed

seven notes seven colors
seven days smoking pollen
seven hoops that I've bought
seven virgins I have prayed

seven notes seven colors
seven days smoking pollen
seven years of bad luck
my materialism is my death