This song has been stuck in my head more often than not for the best part of this year at least however its performer, the seriously talented Nick Stephenson, has only just put a video up on youtube which is why I'm only now getting round to blogging it.
As I've mentioned before when I blogged about the wonderful Martin Bradford-Gago back in January , there is a really brilliant music scene in St Albans, Hertfordshire and Nick Stephenson is another one of the amazing artists making a name for himself right now.
With influences ranging from Bowie to Beethoven, Nick Stephenson taps into the key elements required to create great melodies and lyrics and produces mesmerizing and truly unforgettable songs. It seems so wrong that he, like so many others, is not being heard by the masses.
So I hope you enjoy this song and it prompts you to check him out as well as local artists where you are. You shouldn't wait for the music to come to you, you should go out and find it and then share it with others.
Enjoy and catch you all next week!!
(P.S. Sorry if I get any of the lyrics wrong Nick!!)
Nick Stephenson - Poor Little Boy
Brushing all his fingers against the painted glass
Moving him sideways
Moving him so fast
Cannot get fruit from the tops of the trees
But useless is tasting an appetite
Be free
Make believing shadows
Falling in the rain
Everyone's in the same boat
But no one feels the same
Fall and die for no one
When no one lives for you
Cotton, cold and heartfelt
Nothing left to say
Smile on all the faces
And the harsh light of the day
Well you can't let it happen
And you can't push him over the edge
Well I'm a poor little boy and I know what I like
A poor little boy and I know what I like
I'm a poor little boy won't you cast your eyes down for me
Well I'm a lost little boy and I know what I like
I'm a lost little boy and I know what I like
I'm a lost little boy won't you pull down the blinds for me
Oh sleep a little moonshine
Dogs and howling cats
Somewhere in a window a woman and the past
Sleep with an open mind but never a bleeding hand
She says 'I can recollect all the times we carried on'
And nothing really mattered
No meaning in his song
But then something took over, something so wild and free'
Lay dreaming of the open portals in our minds
Stick, hot summers of the everlasting kind
Well they sit in their days
Losing all sense of time
Oh well I'm a poor little boy and I know what I like
A poor little boy and I know what I like
I'm a poor little boy won't you cast your eyes down for me
Oh well I'm a lost little boy and I know what I like
I'm a lost little boy and I know what I like
I'm a lost little boy won't you pull down the blinds for me
Poor little boy
Poor little boy
Poor little boy
Poor little boy
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