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Here He Comes Again Reverb Blues.mp3
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Something a little different. The point of the song is to cut through this bastard sitting on me and his precious lies about me. So clever, yet I suspect if he put his anti-me in public he's be shot through to the big house.
artist blues guitar london graphic designer animator illustrator robert phillips robertemerald tichphillips woolich xbusker
Artist picture
Blues. Used to busk. Thankyou for looking March 2021. Love/art/blues/Rob. So, musical diary
Pardon? How can I interview me? Some streets are better than others? Some highways are brighter than others. Time of day, find a state of mind, imagination, TV, 1920s. I write about love, lost or found, hopefully honestly inspired by love, and try to play better for that. When younger protested about behaviours on my radar, and of course, being a simple artist, surfing the great times I imagine I had in another life, or maybe one day this one!
Song Info
Genre
Blues • Acoustic Blues
Author
Robert Ellery Phillips
Rights
Robert Ellery Phillips (robertemerald)
Uploaded
February 10, 2013
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.4 MB • 160 kbps • 3:50
Story behind the song
Not a new riff for me. I have a cassette from the 1990s of this one. Thank you for the listen. Aiming for air. Ethereal. The Robot Is Dead Meat by 2978 AD I'll save the report for later. All night again, and vicious through the day. When I've reviewed my notes I'll post in earnest. Erstwhile .. ... Same story. Anti the bullies sitting on me. Bullies I don't actually know but are making a huge song and dance about my character. Insisting on inhabiting my spaces without introducing themselves. They may be lying they know my mother. I doubt it, and they certainly won't shift their superpower behinds to prove it. They continually hope I'll think spiritually about them. As if. Or die. Or go nuts, confirming their theory. They never understood me perhaps, so they stare, bake, disagree, attack, hard, all day? Likely the big ones naturally hate what they can't understand, can't define, particularly if they suspect intelligence. So they make convenient pigeon hole descriptions of what they can? Proof? Silence? To be instant, constant heros? Big Daddy can order the robot into quiet just with his demeanor and not the loud mouth? Don't even know their names I suspect, let alone what they look like, let alone believe they are anything but trouble. A vendetta. No one seems to have a problem with them wanting another man's soul, that is, mine. And no one seems to have a problem with their preparedness to rape anything I attempt and then lie about me in order to achieve that end, you know, because the good guys have to win? To be honest, some of the descriptions of them I've gleamed from the Raggedy Anne of the Results of their Abuse of My Name and Character do sound a little like the 'big girl goodie two shoe' campaigns I remember of the straights from the private schools, you know, back in the 1970s. If so, where is the problem with looking me in the eye then? Or would that mean loosing the only 'crimminal' they've got, or not got, or something? Bastards want to play mama again. Off my sweat. I mentioned this preposterous idea in my last song. The idea is a crock. They can't face me, and never had any intention of it. In truth they just want to play 'enemies'. My face is the punching bag on the wall. It has been for decades, I suspect, and for no reason.
Lyrics
10 - 11 02 13
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