Thousand Yard Stare

Thousand Yard Stare

Conor Miley

Credits Conor Miley: Vocals, Electric Guitars, Piano, Synths, Organ, Percussion, Claps, Sampling. Additional Musicians: Niall Honohan: Drums, Paul Kiernan: Trumpets Lyrics and music by Conor Miley. Arranged and produced Read more

Credits

Conor Miley: Vocals, Electric Guitars, Piano, Synths, Organ, Percussion, Claps, Sampling.

Additional Musicians: Niall Honohan: Drums, Paul Kiernan: Trumpets

Lyrics and music by Conor Miley. Arranged and produced by Conor Miley

Recorded in various houses around Dublin
Except Drums, recorded by Christian Best in Monique Studios. Mixed by Christian Best. Mastered by Stephen Ceresia at Stoneyfield Mastering.
Artwork by Enagh Farrell.

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Lyrics

I was singing here when the hangman came,
He coloured his eyes sloe-black,
Arranged a lasso from a web of tangled chains,
Poured a drink in the recess of the bar,
And took aim.

And in the midst of all this chaos she idles in,
Like some divine show,
And everything explodes in me,
I'm a loony bin,
I'm a bumbling drunk on a carousel.

But then something stirs, something jars the scene,
I wasn't looking for Death but Death found me,
He was hanging out from a cypress tree,
Heaving scorn down upon me like some hazing ceremony.

Testimony of a thin man:
"I'm a helmsman plotting out a course through a raging cyclone in a dreamland,
I'm a nomad rambling in a wasteland,
A conman singing from a bandstand,
A programme of temperamental plans neatly wrapped in my pocket,
And the Tin Man's living in a world of pain."

So, my lover took a blade to the doctrinaire,
The phony saint with his heart ensnared in the haze inside a thousand yard stare,
It was the final act of a love affair.

She wasn't looking for Death but Death still came,
It was a sorry show,
It's a crying shame that she lost her mind,
But she found her faith in some safe sanctuary,
Wild and free.

Testimony of a thin man:
"I'm a helmsman plotting out a course through a raging cyclone in a dreamland,
I'm a nomad rambling in a wasteland,
A conman singing from a bandstand,
A programme of temperamental plans neatly wrapped in my pocket,
And the Tin Man's living in a world of pain."

Well, they told me to sell my rack and woe,
(Sell it down the river)
Sold to the meddling crowd in the bordello,
(Sold down the river)
And they told me to sell my dearest friends to a coterie.
(Sell them down the river)
(Sell it down the river)

See, now and then I will sell my heart and I'll sell my soul,
(Sell them down the river)
I'll sell my will, I'll sell my home,
(Sold down the river)
But I'm not selling the part where I keep her whole,
(Sold down the river)
That's my own sanctuary,
It harbours me.
 

Some Orchestration