While on tour in 2015, I was met with pianos at every stop along the way.
I arrived in Namibia to a home with a piano and a journalist's rifle mic, and "When my Day is Done" was born.
Written on the spot with piano, voice and beatboxing, and recorded with a rifle mic slung over a light fitting - in the gaps between the dogs barking at baboons and the weaver birds busily building their nests.
The video is a collection of footage from my Namibian adventure, filmed on my iphone 4S and edited upon my return. My first attempt at filming or editing (so forgive the kitsch transitions!)
Enjoy! And please follow and vote for more to come!
Lyrics:
I am the father, I am the sun
When my day is done
I am the woman, chained to her throne
When my day is done
I am the protest and the oppression,
When my day is done
I am the victor, I am the victim
When my day is done
We'll all start another war to feel safe
Climbing up the walls to stay sane
Try to fill the void but we don't stay
We don't stay
Well it's all in a day's work
Scrambling for a sense of purpose,
That's the cruelest set of stones
We bare our burdens on borrowed time
Claim your shelter for "what's mine is mine"
On the horizon, against the sun
The shadows gather and the gallows groan
Hear my your honour, I hold you too dear
But is it the law or freedom I fear?
My thoughts are fleeting, though my conscious clear
Keep wide awake, fate is ever near
Oh I saw a shaft of light
I saw a flare
But this is a ghost town,
A ghost town
We'll start another war to feel safe
Climbing up the walls to stay sane
Try to fill the void but we don't stay
We don't stay
Well it's all in a day's work
Scrambling for a sense of purpose,
That's the cruelest set of stones
