Tag: music

Chronicles

I’ve been reading Bob Dylan’s autobiography ‘Chronicles’ and as I was reading it I found 5 Argentinian Pesos in it which I’ve been using as a bookmark and which felt very fitting for a Dylan book. I wrote this song inspired by a mix of the book and the 5 Peso note!

There’s a hurricane howling off on the horizon
Building like a brass band’s roar
The change in the weather’s no longer surprising
Cos nothing stays the same any more
and I’m sitting here waiting and watching and writing
and wondering when it’s time to go
The lights are flickering and faltering and fading
like fireflies after the show

There’s a train that’s thundering off in the distance
Heading for who knows where
I had my chances and I know that I missed them
They could have taken me there
Now I’m stuck in the dirt and the dust of the desert
and I’m drowning in my dreams
But something inside is still there saying
“it isn’t all that it seems”

So I pick up my pack and I grab my guitar
And I set out towards the sun
Don’t know where I’m heading but I know that it’s far
Away from where I’ve begun
With five pesos I pull from my pocket that I found
in the back of a borrowed book
I buy my ticket, can I also buy forgiveness
for all those mistakes that I took

So I’m out on the road now, this is my life
I’m nothing but a travelling man
I don’t have a home or a gun or a knife
Just a guitar and an unravelling plan
I’m a no-one, a nothing, I never was here,
and here’s where I’ll forever be
I’ve slipped through the cracks of the railroad tracks
and I find that I’m finally free, finally I’m free

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

Photo by Grant Durr on Unsplash

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Acrobat

I’m not quite sure where this song came from, other than I mentioned a trombone piece called “The Acrobat” in a sermon recently and the music has been on the music stand in my study, clearly seeping into my subconscious!

Without her coat and hat
She tumbles from her flat
Like some strange acrobat
And after that
She sets off down the street
On someone else’s feet
Her tightrope walk complete
So bittersweet

And even though her world is upside down
And she’s falling with the puppeteers and clowns
And though the crowds cheering her on
can see there’s something wrong
They think it’s somehow all part of the show
Little do they know

She’s up on her trapeze
And looking down she sees
The rubble and debris
That used to be
The life she thought she knew
So comfortable and true
But now she swings right through
To something new

She’s coming in to land
As time flows like the sand
Slipping through her hand
She understands
That all there is to know
Is nothing but a show
And when the curtains close
It’s time to go
© Rich Clarkson 2025

Photo by Robin Battison on Unsplash

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Protest Song

I’ve been listening to a lot of Bob Dylan recently, since watching the film ‘A Complete Unknown’, and inspired by his protest songs have had a go at writing my own!

Where are the poets, the prophets the priests and the kings
Lending their voices to those who can no longer sing
Do they have the courage to meet this hour
Exchanging their platforms of privilege and power
For a better, more beautiful world where we all can be free

How do the men making millions off misery sleep
When their bedsheets are washed with the tears of the many who weep?
The merchants of war who would rather we bleed
Than exchange their selfishness, power, and greed
For a better more beautiful world where we all can be free

Why are the women still wailing and when will they see
Their long promised justice roll in like the waves on the sea?
In the face of oppression still they persist
Replacing a world filled with prejudice
With a better more beautiful world where we all can be free

Who are the people who profit while the planet burns?
Spreading pollution and lies without any concerns
Blaming our problems on refugees
While the billionaire conmen steal whatever they please
From the better more beautiful world where we all can be free

Where are the poets, the prophets, the priests and the kings
The ones who believe in the promise of what tomorrow may bring
The hopers and dreamers working to see
A brighter tomorrow where together we’ll be
The poets and prophets and priests and kings and queens
Of a better more beautiful world where we all can be free

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

Photo by Nikoloz Gachechiladze on Unsplash

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Better Place

Going through a little ‘protest song’ writing phase – here’s a fun one inspired by Frank Turner

I just want to write a song to make the world a better place
Something you can sing along to with a smile upon your face
When the world is going wrong and everything is a disgrace
I just want to sing a song to make the world a better place
Do do do do do do do (x4)

I don’t really wanna write another angry song for you
Climate change and genocide and hate can leave you feeling blue
Everything is all the time I find it overwhelming too
So I don’t really wanna sing another angry song for you
Do do do…

All I want to do is try and write a song and have some fun
I can’t change the world and nor can you but if we work as one
Spreading kindness and compassion we will see what can be done
All I want to do is try and sing a song and have some fun
Do do do…

I just want to write a song to make the world a better place
Something you can sing along to with a smile upon your face
Maybe sneak a little bit of protest in it just in case
Together we can sing a song then make the world a better place
Do do do…

(c) Rich Clarkson 2025

Photo by Caio Silva on Unsplash

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The Session

The gathered few share tales and songs
As drinks are poured and memories raised,
And all join in, and all belong.

The tunes fly past the nearby throng,
Some are left cold, others amazed.
The gathered few share tales and songs.

There is no right, there is no wrong,
Songs are enjoyed and not appraised,
And all join in, and all belong.

Some know their craft, their voices – strong
With rounded tone – are neatly phrased.
The gathered few share tales and songs.

Some, though unconfident or young,
Still play their part, receive their praise,
And all join in, and all belong.

And when all voices sing along,
The rafters of the roof are raised!
The gathered few share tales and songs,
And all join in, and all belong.

© Rich Clarkson, 2016

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