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about

The artist known as the boy without a name grew up in a small town in Middle England. After graduating from University, he spent three years touring and releasing music under a different name, eventually arriving in London, where he opened a recording studio and began working with artists on the underground London scene. At its height, this journey led to working on productions with such peers as Mick Jones (The Clash) at his studio in West London and becoming immersed into the family of the West London arts community - a teasing glance into a possible future. Eventually, life diverted him onward to the seaside town of Brighton, the choice to leave London made inevitable for him by the burden of money, and the need to be more present in the life of his long-term partner, supporter and often muse, who at this point had been suffering with a then undiagnosed chronic condition which would come to dramatically alter their co-existence and pathway through life’s adventure. It was here in their fifth-floor flat, as the ocean breeze wandered through an open sash window and the yellowy light ebbed through the rooftops onto a four-track cassette recorder, that Islands was conceived.

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released October 5, 2018

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all rights reserved

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the boy without a name UK

Hiding in the nooks of the unobserved, the boy without a name is the moniker for the works by
an artist whose identity will here remain unnamed.

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Track Name: XXVII
On a table where the darkest of secrets can hide
My lies are inviting me down to the white
My body is burned on a mindful of fight
For a bride and the heaviest of favours denied

There's no need for forgiving
Sorrows like these can be swallowed in kindness
And I'll be alone self-afflicted
In the shade of the dusk in our living room sighs
And I'll mask the white under your eyelids
As we dose away feeling in our awkward incline
For your life

You're a feather worn heady from the worries of flight
I'm a fly on the wall looking in from the sky
All the colours of blood rushing down to your spine
And the cries of your pain pushing hard to define

We've no place with the living
A killing incentive for selfish decline
When our friendship is longer breathing
And my oxygen bleeds on a flawless design
I'm losing my life to your leaving
And we're talking in opposite swells of the tide

I'm scared of the dirt in you eyes
My reasons for leaving are selfish and poorly defined
But I'm not one for words
When our absence is no kind of healing for hurts of this kind
For the water is wide
But I'm not one to swim, you know me
The melancholy seasons are mine

There are knives in the air forming thoughts held in time
When the only way out is out into the night
And my dreams are all visionaries walking the line
That I brokered and borrowed from a better man's life
Track Name: Islands
Sleep
I'm a constant
Like a solvent
Through skin and tongue

I trace the suits all over the red line
The face of a kid opened fire on the five and nine

There's a war in the blood
This is terminal, this is terminal

Creep I'm dispondent
Swam a solent
Through wires and time

Here is a place inhuman and undefined
Where the stakes are higher than all but the turn of mind

There's a war in the blood
This is terminal, this is terminal
There is trouble in a flood of the cynical
Show me an island, love
Track Name: Confessional
Drown out the noise with a discourse
Allow me to be unsettling and drink it in uncertainly
Found out the poise with the fiscal
Endow me to breathe embellishing and shrinking in endlessly

The only wiser man found in a holocaust of age
Stack the over-educated odds anonymous and frayed
When gods are liberated in a confessional of faith
I'm not awake, I'm not awake

Down on the joy with a white horse
Surrounded in steam and suffering
Grounded and deep
Frowned on the boy from the substance
Drowning to feel anything
Founded and weak

While demagogues play god and all our teachers taught to hate
We're sent like humans to the slaughter for a sense of pride and place
We lack the nerve to leave whilst staring death right in the face
I'm not awake, I'm not awake
Track Name: [ ]
( )

Bring me violence and a catalyst
In a storybook of hope
Thirty cigarettes and a hollow sense
Of something to show
At the twilight end there'll be limbs to mend
For these bookshelves to claim as their own
Contaminants left on paper threads
Shed a winter to the snow

Later, insomnia
Seed the lulling monotone
Indeterminate
Feed the callous to the bone

We are fever and thought
At the foot of it all
We are dust, we are dust

Indefinite in a safety net
While I'm trying not to cope
Tragediennes through a camera lens
Into listless forms and throws
When common sense is social deficit
Lost my innocence a decade ago
Ultraviolet and I'm trembling
Cast my fortune to the spoke

Later, Insomnia
Seed the lulling monotone
Indeterminate
Feed the callous to the bone

In our fever and faun
Unweave it all
We are dust, we are dust
And fumes
For river is frost
Our addendum is lost
Upon a shiver in this sea of us
Track Name: Thread
Are you sitting down, invisible?
I've seen these sterile walls before
Thread a desolate and literal
Through a Dorset fall short of the full
I'm parading them all; the corpses
On adrenaline that falls and courses
Over and over and over
And under the skin

We don't need to be a part of this
What is left flawed on a pixel edge

A whole thread in our then
We hold not the nights still glow
A fools eyes upon my eyes
In the furrows I hide
Where the lamplight is low

She took chemicals
That if I was a liar I'd be innocent of
I've witnessed a war in a humans mind
Rust out a treason of sorts
Without reason and short of attention
I'll throw out my caution to the breeze
Make my peace with the winter
In the bleakest of madness forgive her
Half a breath and bleed out the oxygen
Know I've always been

We don't need to be a part of it
If we weren't us then we could be anything

A whole thread in our then
We hold not the nights still glow
A fools eyes upon my eyes
In the furrows I hide
Where the lamplight is low

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