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The Ghosts of Windmill Hill

John D Revelator on July 07, 2013 11:52

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    Melancholia - Lovesick small town double dip depression blues - Cheer up big fella!

    The Ghosts of Windmill Hill.

    From the tagged and smashed up bus stop where we always went to deal to the cluttered shuttered cornershop where we first learned how to steal

    There’s bitter wind blowing southbound from the high & lonely moors its fingers tap the windows & probe holes in every door.

    There’s a mourning sound from flapping fence as the wind screams across the park and clanging chain from a broken swing that rattles after dark

    Is that a keening in the north wind as it carries winter’s chill? Or the crying of the lost souls of the Ghosts of Windmill Hill

    Break

    In the bashed and battered phone box where you’d skin up after dark
    You can hear the Friday sirens wail and dozen guard dogs bark

    By the lonely church and graveyard where a 1000 mothers mourned
    The wind kicks can through tombstone goals watched by ripped discarded porn

    Is that the clapping of a headless centrefold as she cheers Aeolian skill?
    Or the crying of the lost souls of the Ghosts of Windmill Hill.

    The sails stopped turning years ago like the cogs inside the mill
    The factories in the town below are silent dark & still
    Today there’s just no work at all
    Shops all boarded in the mall
    The dying sounds of this old town are shrill
    And we’re all going off the meet them
    The Ghosts of Windmill Hill.

    Oh Oh, Oh Oh The Ghosts of Windmill Hill.
    Oh Oh, Oh Oh The Ghosts of Windmill Hill.

    Guitar break

    Oh Oh, Oh Oh The Ghosts of Windmill Hill.
    Oh Oh, Oh Oh The Ghosts of Windmill Hill.

    We’d talk for hours by the roundabout & I thought our love was sealed
    When I held you tight against the cold north wind as it tore across the playing field

    Now that bitter blast still blows through here like it always used to do
    But I’m chattering on my own here, alone and missing you

    Is that a sobbing on the boreal breeze for a love that lost its’ thrill?
    Or the crying of the lost souls of the Ghosts of Windmill Hill.

    I loved you like no other man could or ever will
    You know if you here today I’d love you up until
    The end of time when one & all
    Answer hell or heaven’s call
    I loved you then & you know I love you still
    But our love’s gone to the four winds
    With the Ghosts of Windmill Hill.

    Oh Oh, Oh Oh The Ghosts of Windmill Hill.
    Oh Oh, Oh Oh The Ghosts of Windmill Hill.

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