The Naked Truth Vol 2

by Ian Bruce

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LABYRINTH OF CHANCE (Ian M. Bruce) Muster, muster, stand before me now All you who are blessed by birth Through me alone your future shall unfold And its quantities of misery and mirth Some through me shall gingerly tread Some may run, skip or dance Whatever way, you must take what you can From me . . . the Labyrinth of Chance. Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, from me, the Labyrinth of Chance. Go with open eyes through my tunnels of light In the footsteps of those gone before But go with caution if my abysses are dark For it may be danger you explore By ploughing dark some may harvest light Dictating the sidle or prance Or tardy adventurers who are seeking their rewards In me . . . the Labyrinth of Chance. Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, from me, the Labyrinth of Chance. Awaiting shortcuts? Now don't you wait too long My walls are tough, they rarely yield Don't go seeking for my lucky breaks I keep them well concealed I can't deny I have some in store If you sprint or you cannily advance There are few who don't earn their quality of life In me, ... the Labyrinth of Chance. Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, from me, the labyrinth of chance. So enter by my front door And a few by my side And make of me what you will I wish you confidence and a presence of mind And a great ambition to fulfil But before that last great tunnel you traverse In retrospect I want you to glance How many tunnels did you light on your way Through me . . . the Labyrinth of Chance? Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, through me, The Labyrinth of Chance.
STAN THE SINGER (Ian M. Bruce) The lazy, the tryers, the honest and liars, Ladies and children can all die in fires. Blame won't discern for the ones it admires. An artist can die without warning. And if he's a singer and writer of songs, There's tears where he never knew he belonged. Space in the hearts of his audience forms A space for the singer. Now I'm sure you will find, on the brink of your mind, A singer of stature, his name underlined. Your loyalty won't let him be undermined; His music's so good he deserves this But who is the man with the short cut career Whose songs rise above those of most of his peers! Whose voice is constantly fresh in my ears! Stan Rogers the singer. His songs are embroideries with words neatly sewn. His needle of melody stitches so strong. Deep coloured threads are his bellowing tones Singing songs of seas, ships and lovers. Stan Rogers now, he's dead I regret A giant cut down by a lit cigarette? The flames took the man we ne'er shall forget. Stan Rogers the singer. Do do do da da da de de de 'n' de etc He's gone to the sun with a million and one Of his unwritten songs that will never be sung. But, in his music, he's left us a 'son' Who sings as if from the heavens, For when he sings, 'the father' comes down And lives once again here with us on the ground. You're moved along by the undying sound Of Stan Rogers the singer.
BIZZIE LIZZIE (Ian M. Bruce) Lizzie lived in the first house past Peebles Drive. It changed into Lauder around the time that Lizzie died. She'd walk by and "Hello" we'd say; Sometimes I'd run away. She'd be bewildered, sometimes annoyed. Sometimes I'd greet her, sometimes avoid; Running, hiding behind the wall Till we didn't talk at all. . . CHORUS I'm sorry Lizzie, Bizzie Lizzie. If I could only explain. I'm sorry Lizzie, ever Bizzie Lizzie, But I'm never gonna see you again. There was a raincoat I hated to wear. For this old mackintosh I didn't care. Don't look now, I don't want you to see This old raincoat on me. CHORUS Lizzie lived in the first house past Peebles Drive. It changed into Lauder around the time that Lizzie died. She'd walk by and "Hello" we'd say. Sometimes I'd run away. CHORUS
SPEAKIN' FREE (Ian M. Bruce) CHORUS Speakin' Free - good to hear Speakin' Free - good to hear Cross my heart, I hope to die. We are eye to eye for the first time. Best of friends - sometimes asunder Unspoken thoughts make me wonder. What makes you tick? How I wished I was psychic To understand you. I've known you so long You were always strong. Too strong to fall Not so strong as that wall that surrounds you CHORUS MIDDLE Now this change is kinda strange Good to see you're no different from me. Broken bricks lie on the ground Fists of Steel smashed them down. Good for you! Let me welcome you through, It's good to know ya. CHORUS
Recovery 02:52
RECOVERY (Ian M. Bruce) Music surrounds me! It fills the air. Golden pagodas spark sunlight everywhere. A cathedral dome above me So wondrous to see. There's a freedom in my fingers An awakening in me. And the dawn drifts through the window On a gentle breath of change The sky in streaks of colour only nature could arrange. Turquoise, blue and amber The darkness turns to light I am gratefully transported from the cold and dismal night. CHORUS Thank you for loving me For I did not have the strength to fight alone. So I throw off my duvet A crumbled prison wall I bathe in the peace of mind that greets me in the hall. The back door just a skin twixt the new born day and I Which yields to floods of springtime beneath an autumn sky. Great gulps of daylight and O they taste so good My appetite's returning and it's crying out for food. So I fix myself some breakfast, a little tea and toast. A tear behind my teacup and a wiggle in my toes. CHORUS And I step into the forest, less dense now than it was The branches thick behind me as they interweave and cross. As I head for open space I slowly bend to take Solace in reflections I cast upon the lake. But still a tinge of golden where the eyes were pearly white Though heartened by improvements delivered in the night. I am tired now I have strayed a little further than I should. I rest my weary head at the edge of this dark wood. CHORUS
ALL OR NOTHING (Ian M. Bruce) You poached my friends. Some ask about you. Some think we're one. I think you want them to. Sure I like you And you've been good to me. But you come on too strong And I can't let that be. CHORUS It's all or nothing And you're forcing me to choose. It's all or nothing And 'All" is going to lose. Go on deny it. Pretend you're squeaky clean. Spin your famous line "I don't know what you mean!" Phone my mother. Tell her I'm bad. Then fail to understand why I get mad. CHORUS Stop trying to touch me. Stop trying to mother me. Stop trying to kiss me. Stop!...Smothering me. Gimme some credit. I see through your plan. And I will dodge your little trap In any way I can. No I won't kiss you when you call. Well now I would say.. "That 'bout says it all." CHORUS
No Noise 03:47
NO NOISE (Ian M. Bruce) Bustling people, they're driving me crazy I was thinking, "I'm never gonna see home" I must lie down for an hour being lazy i must have some time on my own Straight lines of sunlight go somewhere behind me A speck of dust moves so slow In and out of the light it's drifting Like me, it finds nowhere to go. Chorus No noise, no noise, no noise No noise, no noise, no noise. Outside my windows a bush in the breeze Creates a hypnotic display Somewhere in the distance, The tap of a hammer But it must be a mile away. A ringing phone could shatter this silence So disconnect from the wall And a knock on the door Could send my heart racing I only hope no-one will call My eyes grow heavy, Soon they'll be closing Sourceless hissing surrounds All things tranquil make their contribulion While me and the sun go down.
WHEN THE BOUGH BREAKS (Ian M. Bruce/Ian J.Walker) CHORUS Innocence won't see The twisting of the tree. Or how the trusted oak Bent before it broke. Running home from school Brimmed with news to tell But why the locked front door And the need to ring the bell? Seconds pass like hours A neighbour lets her in But how d'ya tell a child? Where do you begin? CHORUS MIDDLE No-one will ever know How a heart can ache Till they're left alone When the bough breaks. But heartaches gave her strength To find her own way through And from a broken bough Another oak tree grew. CHORUS
Corners 04:28
CORNERS (Ian M. Bruce/Ian J. Walker) Singing Na Na Na, etc. In the corner of a country, In the corner of a town, In the corner of his room, There's a man sitting down In restful preparation for another working day, And his little shop downstairs is a million miles away, For the evening. The lights shine on Broadway, Man lands on the moon, Paul Simon writes American Tune. The big world rolls on by. A different way is waiting But he never thinks to try. So, in the corner of a country, In the corner of a town, In the corner of his room. .'' ' There's a man sitting down. And if the notion takes him There's a jigsaw on the go, Or his unwitting fingers just work remote control For the T.V. And he just sings Na Na Na etc. In the corner of a country, In the corner of a town, In the corner of an office, There's a girl sitting down. Everyday she sits with her fingers on the keys. When she's not typing she's making cups of tea, Sometimes coffee. Big Yellow Taxi, Well it Drove 0l' Dixie Down. "You've got a friend", in every town. Where fingers play piano Admiration flares. Fingers typing memos, no-one really cares. So, in the corner of a country, In the corner of a town, In the corner of an office, There's a girl sitting down. Does it never get her down ? Does she never want to show There's so much to this girl no-one will ever know? It's locked inside her. And she just sings Na Na Na etc. In the corner of this country, In the corner of this town, In the corner of this room, Is there someone who's singing Na Na Na etc.? credits
LINCOLN AND MY BROTHERS (Ian M. Bruce) I tried to grab a handful to take to my heart. There's nothing here for me to hold. No love to grasp, no ghosts from the past And not a single memory to guide me. On these terraced streets My brothers used to play. That was long before I was born. I never saw them kick a ball Against the red brick walls Nor trudging off to school in the morning. "Bonny" was the cat. They were very fond of 'that!' In later years they told me all about him. How he'd followed them around.. A bit more like a hound. There's no photograph of "Bonny" And no album. Lincoln and my brothers saw my parents' younger days. An older mum speaks fondly of Bampa I wrap her words so tightly round.. Like a loose fitting hand-me-down As she tells me of his kind and gentle nature. I'm like some anxious yankee with his book on history. Probing for postion in the past. But this past was never mine. I'm simply from a different time. With heavy heart.. I may as well go home.
YOURS FOR THE NIGHT (Ian M. Bruce/Sandy Stanage) The stage it is your altar The hall the palm of your hand. Your fingers fold around me And my world turns to sand. Which trickles through your fingers As you sing me songs and tales That let me feel your sweet soft breath And the sharpness of your nails. CHORUS Do you use those eyes to hypnotise? Where d'ya get the power to shine? You give no more than you want to Now I'm yours for the night and you're mine. Those angry eyes. Those lovely eyes. There's no sound in the hall Except your mystical song. I could have heard a pin drop And yet far less a bomb. And though a hall apart, You've become so strangely close. You're singing from a cloud of light To which I am exposed. CHORUS And now the concert's over Applause invites you to stay. You gimme one more encore which I humbly take away. But still your secret's safe I was too engrossed to see. That magic spell you cast so well Remains a mystery. CHORUS
LONELY OLD LADY (Ian M. Bruce) She's a lonely old lady She sits by her fire Scorching her legs as the flames dance higher. Reflections in specs of a flickering screen. Her favourite programme again is unseen. She's been snoozing. MmmH! Snoozing. But has she been sleeping for one hour or two? She fumbles from sleep. She finds little to do. But glance at the phone which infrequently rings. Hum unwritten songs She frequently sings La la la la. La la la lonely She's lonely La la la lonely. Then speakin' out loud she says "Don't be so lazy!" Mobility isn't so easy these days. She shuffles her way past last month's mag. To a wintry kitchen and a one cup teabag. She's lonely La la la lonely. Lonely. La la la lonely. There's an old shoe box And it's tied round with string. Creased black and whites. She got Brownies within. But the prized Polaroids, they adorn the piano. Grandchildren's silent "Hello!" Grandchildren's silent "Hello!" All lights out but one on the bedside table. No more late nights. She's no longer able. Just one more day put to memory's store. She lies there wondering "How many more?" She's lonely La la la lonely. Her mind's eye sees the shoebox untied. Prized Polaroids join the Brownies inside. The faces drift past her bed as they go. Grandchildren's last cheerio. Grandchildren's last cheerio
DOLLAR A DREAM (Ian M. Bruce) Daddy can't buy you a brand new car; Not with things the way they are, See this ticket in my hand, This is our ticket to the promised land. This is our ticket to the promised land. CHORUS One little dollar, that's all it cost, So if it don't win there's not much lost, If it don't bring peaches and cream, You can't grudge a dollar a dream. You can't grudge a dollar a dream. Daddy can't take you on a Concorde plane, But he'll take you to the seaside now and again, But if these winning numbers fall, I'll take you round the world till you've seen it all. I'll take you round the world till you've seen it all. CHORUS You can't buy love. We all know that, But that's one thing we've already got, What more could we want when we've got love? But Money! Money! Money! And lots and lots of!!!!!! CHORUS
(You Have To) BELIEVE IN LOVE) (Ian M. Bruce/Iain J. Murray) CHORUS You have to believe in love Believe and want to change You have to live your life around love. You gaze from your window On another rainy day The telephone rings You hear your friend say "Aint you glad that I rang?" CHORUS You tell me your dreams And how they don't come true You tell me how it seems That life is leaving you behind Those who never seek, they rarely find Their counterpart of the loving kind Fools may say I don't really mind I Don't really mind So look to your dreams See that some have come true Run for your life Don't you know it won't run to you? CHORUS
THE LADIES LEFT BEHIND (Ian M. Bruce) "Where are all the gentlemen?" The question crossed my mind. For here we have their widows, The ladies left behind. They've all come to the party, To sit down in a row Of sad eyes saying "Nowhere else to go". CHORUS The ladies don't take to the floor. The ladies don't dance any more. "Is there still ambition?" The question crossed my mind. "Did they grow too old to dream?" The ladies left behind. "Is there still steel will frailty denies? Have they yielded to time As it ever faster flies?" CHORUS "And who will be waiting?" The question crossed my mind. "Who will kiss the tears from Will their loved ones greet them At some great golden gate? Will Peter hear them shout "Hey, this was worth the wait?" CHORUS Many years have passed Since these questions crossed my mind, And we've become the ones That the ladies left behind. Were their expectations realised Upon that final call? For all those little ladies Was there anything at all? CHORUS Maybe they met gentlemen. Are they somewhere dancing again?
MIND OF A CHILD (Ian M. Bruce) He just made a bus from a row of chairs It's a game he seems to enjoy Full on top but seats downstairs So says my little boy And though there was no one there From each seat he picked up a fare Chorus It's a curious thing, The Mind of a Child A world of play and fantasies wild But let them believe in the man in the moon, They'll find truth too soon. Out in the garden playing at ball He receives a pass from no one at all He kicks and scores one goal more I know he heard that Hamden roar Back in the garden playing at war "I know what soldiers are fighting for." With no careful aim, he fires his gun. "Soldiers are fighting cos fighting is fun."
I CAN'T SIT STILL (Ian M. Bruce) There's times when I'm doing nothing My mind just gets taxed. Even with this so-called doing nothing I can't relax. It's worst when I'm alone And I'm rattling round the house. I'm best when I'm with my friends But for one grouse..... CHORUS I can't sit still. There's always something to do Sometimes I have to sit on my hands. It's almost like I'm ill. I can't sit still. OoooH! I can't sit still. I am the anxious type There's lots of us around. Many 'nervies' just like me Generally 'has' found........ MIDDLE Because there's always something broken Or something needing cleaned A letter needing written Well....You know what I mean. (Pick up the broom, sweep up the dust Pick up the steel-wool, take off the rust Get to the bank Pay all the bills Get it all done...Maybe I will... Do everything according to plan. Man...Don't you know what I mean?)
My Eldorado 06:59


Ian's second venture into the simple one man and his guitar....ish. This time there's frequently his own second guitar and harmony.


released July 1, 2004

Ian Sings and plays everything.


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Ian Bruce Edinburgh, UK

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