Sidereal Verses

by Fergus Ellington

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Written and recorded 2016-early 2017.

Acoustic, electric and classical guitars, kazoo, bongos, guitalele, vocals, guiro, synthesis, production and artwork- Fergus Ellington.


released March 24, 2017



all rights reserved
Track Name: Rustic Plastic Relics
recalling summer sun she feels as though the final one who ever cared is gone
dusty forgotten days among the heat and humid haze I still have this one
illusions twice removed from blackened ice to bottled blues the old ways will return
perceive the clearing in a forest fast appearing where we wait to watch them burn

and now the shattered glass refracts the pale moonlight
the scavengers are out in force of course it’s after midnight
a narrow alleyway contains a shallow shadow play
and players always find a way to stray from the everyday

reliving liquid light she feels as though she thinks she might have lost the will to fight
segments of soliloquies declaimed to stones and owls and trees: a hundred ink black nights
solutions to the riddle strung out tight on Nero’s fiddle as the sparks ignite the roof
allow your senses to become your best defences ‘cause the moon is on the hoof

and now a splintered form is snaking through the mist
eyes gleam out from darkened doors, pseudonyms on the guest list
a solemn sanctuary, for a life that’s all too ordinary
discard the outer layers and we see what it is it be

triangulating all the snide and guarded hating that was aimed her way for years
she realises that behind their tough disguises were a thousand trembling fears
calibrate the instrument to win the holy argument between the earth and stars
choreographed silhouettes of self aware marionettes buy coffee, clothes and cars

and as the solenoid engages, now it’s on
old backstreet philosophers start to stumble in to the new dawn
a high day hideaway, a home from home with hell to pay
naysayers always find a way to prey on the disarray
Track Name: Interminable Velocity
well it’s a neat trick but it’s not an expression
a silhouette flits over courtyards of open air
you were there and we
were temporarily modified, horrified,
held against our will, and now this one thrilling moment
is painted right over again

fetishising the real is a modern affliction
a monochrome screel that revisits the empty page
you’ll engage to be
a sympathetically easy mark, bitter bark
let that fluid spill, and now this one thrilling moment
is painted right over again

but the velocity
I fear it might never end
elevated viscosity
breaks before it bends
before it breaks before it bends

survive the first week and you’re in for the season
scaling the peak is for those who have plunged the depths
ragged breath so sweet
a day of rustling paper leaves, smouldering trees
no-one sees the kill, and now this one thrilling moment
is painted right over again
Track Name: Dry Stone Wail
plot line spread too fine
fictional, directional
years have aged like wine

in the museum
we’re all trapped behind glass
simplistic, sadistic
a way to cut out the class

and talking to you
is like talking to a dry stone wall
friction retains you
but it feels like you’re ready to fall

clinical respite
a moment out of time
cryptic and contraband
if you feel so inclined

just like a reptile
you lick the sand from your eyes
limestone cracks, heart attacks
nausea in disguise

and talking to you
is like talking to a dry stone wall
acid rain erodes your flesh
and you’re using up your only call
talking to you, yeah
is like talking to dry stone wall
this fiction remains of you
but I think that it’s ready to fall
ready to fall
Track Name: On the Threshold of Taciturnity
dismembered thoughts
misremembered conversations
portioned out and sold
fractured dialogue; worth its weight in gold

the ladder of the evermore infirm
extends beyond the canopy no fire alive can burn

psychodramatic days
long nights of insinuation
chasing the ad man’s cash
decorative hems now just twisted wire and ash

a polygraph of time-translated lies
repeating what was fleeting in your zoetropic eyes

the guileless guillotine
falls upon the neck of irony
the 1990s dream
a tango bottle prize; a long forgotten scheme

the road down which we walked a thousand times
is redrawn every morning in more and more alien lines
Track Name: Futility and the Feast
slowly, you turn your head
into a replica museum of the dead
go ahead, and make my day
into a night-time where the shadows come to play

6 a.m. is here once more
the over-arching stack of speakers on the floor
and so through dusty glass I build my case
eyes closed tight against the light that bathes your pallid face

just relax and let yourself fall
into the soft embrace of pure free market capital
and as the parasites consume your veins
these tinny speakers duplicate their grim refrain

an oscillator in the gloom
a tetrad ringing out within a scented room
hypnagogia replenishes
and back out in the black you can’t remember where it is

in the garden of the half way sane
the chain letter propagator strikes again
a velvet candle in the concrete dark
illuminates the page and thus reveals the watermark
Track Name: Gnomic Gardens
and while those liars
kept promising the past
the arrow of time flew on straight and true

and oh she should have known
that it would never last
the shallow depths anticipated you

though these non secateurs
can’t cut the ice today
a ripple roared across the empty skies

but quench the steel in something
stronger than restraint
and silent waves break back behind your eyes


climb the ladder
while the flowers are in bloom
avarice concealed by affection

and it won’t matter
as you race towards the tomb
never breaking gaze with your reflection

when simple pleasures
give way to complex pain
the moments fluctuate and seem to hover

bound up in leather
and left out in the rain
for future generations to discover


and now the gardeners
who dug what we all said
will take our secrets six feet under

and while the sky descends
the heavens painted red
the earth below is rent asunder

(and it’s no wonder)
Track Name: Monte Iberia Eleuth
just the smallest frog in the northern hemisphere
frozen in fear
what can you do when the rain falls down in your ear
just disappear
about 6 times a year

It's a long long time to live through
there's a few small things to get to
no remaining neural pathways
drown the mirage in the heat haze

just the smallest cog in the broken dream machine
shiny and clean
what can you say when they ask you what does it mean
just spin and a'gleam
shine with yr sheen

it’s the wrong wrong time to leave now
there’s a few torn wings the wind howls through
once upon a month draconic
consult the prophet electronic