So, we’re now onto the last of the songs from my module that I’m going to show you. It’s a version of Blur’s ‘On Your Own’ – or part of it – entitled ‘Mosaic’, although ‘Collage’ might have been a better name. It’s a mish-mash (and that’s a technical term) of phrases and images with no meaning whatsoever. I’d put some degree of thought into each of the preceding three songs, so I wanted to close my assignment with one that made absolutely no sense. Having a completely blank canvas was slightly daunting, as is always the case, but I was looking forward to seeing how absurd my imagery could get and what the limits of my imagination were. These verses are therefore pretty weird, since I wasn’t taking them seriously, but I hope you don’t either. Enjoy!
(Verse 1)
All the lemons stowed away in their chip paper
Embraced by the flowing summer sun
Oh, it’s all in the past, no-one cares now
Little amethyst assassins on the run
Now you’re on the telephone
But you’re talking static
As the big glass door slides shut automatic
And did I leave the gas on in the attic?
Lose myself in the dense yellow mist
Floating on away
(Chorus 1)
And now the flies
Keeping a surprise
It’s in their feet
And it’s in their eyes
Just hibernation
Resting at the station
Galactic sleeper
But no Grim Reaper
I’ll ride on home, inflate a dome
Light the stars in airplane fuel
We’ll be starting a blaze in the head
It’s food for the soul
For the soul
(Verse 2)
And the sky is raining rods in shades of emerald
The grass is growing high around the hogs
Sniffing hungry round the eyeballs
Of a kitty
And eating the bread the man’s thrown onto the lawn
On the emerald lawn
Mason
Allow me to present what is effectively Winchester Mission Control, just six days before we launch the rocket towards its destination. The large pile cluttering up the centre of the image above is made entirely of clothes I will be taking – in the process of clearing out the wardrobe, I was surprised to discover that I owned many more T-shirts than I thought I did! The garments that had to be retired after years of loyal service were consigned to one of two other piles, and as I write this they are destined either for the charity shop or to be used as miscellaneous rags in one of Dad’s many household jobs. I have to say that seeing everything I would definitely need grouped together made the whole exercise feel somewhat therapeutic – together with Mum I had been ruthless and made some sacrifices, which did feel quite calming. The first thing that introduced even a modicum of stress to proceedings was deciding what to wear to the ball I have booked a ticket for during my Freshers’ Week.