Lyrics – BARD RECORDS

We’ve Simplified Things

admin — Tue, 27 Oct 2026 09:06:00 +0000

Good news.
You work here now.

We’ve Simplified Things celebrates the modern miracle of making a service easier by getting the customer to provide it. Fewer staff, longer forms and considerably more efficiency, although nobody likes to dwell on exactly who it became more efficient for. Still, once you’ve finished doing the job, there’s usually a survey waiting to ask how well they did.

► BUY

OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

For your convenience.
Naturally.

Used to be a service, now it’s making me earn it.
Funny how convenience is just work in a nicer shirt.
No one says it’s work, though, that would spoil the little trick.
You just do a little more now while the service gets more slick.

Less to ask, less to see,
more efficient apparently.

We’ve simplified things, nice and clean.
Took out all the awkward bits, mostly human beings.
We’ve simplified things, works a treat.
You do half the service now, we call that efficiency.
We’ve simplified things, nothing left to prove.
How did you do?

Everywhere you go now, you seem to know the role.
No badge, no little welcome pack, still somehow on the payroll.
Nobody showed you anything, still you learned it quick.
Funny what becomes a skill when someone else won’t do it.

Quick and clean, nice and neat,
one more little service off its feet.

The desks get slightly emptier, the forms get slightly longer.
The signs say things are easier. Lovely bit of branding.
Nobody seems surprised now, that’s probably the clever part.
Take away the person, leave the process, call it smart.

Nearly done. One thing more.
Tell us how you found the service you performed.

I Don’t Know Yet

admin — Tue, 20 Oct 2026 08:05:00 +0000

Something happened.
Good news. Everyone already knows what.

I Don’t Know Yet is for that awkward period between something happening and anyone knowing what happened. Usually about five minutes. After that there’s a witness, a cousin, someone who knows the family and a bloke in the pub with surprisingly detailed information. By lunchtime the facts are settled. By tomorrow they may even be correct. Waiting seemed an option, but apparently that looks suspicious.

► BUY

OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

Something happened.
Don’t know what yet.
Give it five minutes.

Someone heard it from a neighbour who had heard it down the road.
There’s a bloke who knows a bloke who says he knows how this one goes.
By eleven there’s a reason.
By twelve someone knows who knew.
By one it’s common knowledge.
I’m a little behind the news.
Saw two people by the doorway.
One of them was on the phone.
Couldn’t hear a word they said.
Still, apparently it’s known.

Could be this.
Could be that.
Bit late now.
We’ve got the facts.

I don’t know yet.
Sorry about that.
Everybody else seems fairly sure of the facts.
I don’t know yet.
Give it a while.
There’s a bloke who knows a bloke who’s cleared it all up now.
I don’t know yet.
Nothing to add.
I realise that looks quite bad.

Someone saw a car there earlier.
Someone says it wasn’t his.
Someone’s cousin knows the family.
That’s apparently useful.
Chap behind the bar remembers something someone said last week.
Didn’t mean much at the time.
Means quite a lot since Tuesday.
Every telling gets a detail.
Every detail settles in.
Nobody remembers who said what.
Everyone remembers him.

Could be wrong.
Might be right.
Anyway…
that’s what I heard last night.

More came out this morning.
Didn’t quite fit what we’d heard.
Nothing major.
Just the people, place, the reason and a word.
Funny thing, by lunchtime that’s what everyone had said.
Apparently we’d known that bit.
Must’ve got mixed up in my head.
Bloke who knew the bloke says that’s the story all along.
Nobody was actually wrong.
Some bits just came out wrong.

There we are.
Mystery done.
Nearly what we said at one.

I’ll wait till we know.
Apparently we do.

Something happened.
Anyway.

Nothing Else Tonight

admin — Fri, 16 Oct 2026 08:05:00 +0000

I could go out.
I just don’t particularly want to.

Nothing Else Tonight is about an evening in which absolutely nothing happens, which turns out to be quite underrated. There’s washing I haven’t done, something forgettable on television and a plate I’ll deal with tomorrow. I nearly made plans simply because having no plans felt like something I ought to correct. Then I realised I was warm, comfortable and perfectly happy where I was. Sometimes being on your own isn’t a situation that needs fixing. Sometimes you just don’t fancy moving.

► BUY

THOUGHTS, MOSTLY

I left the washing where it was
Turned the big light off
There’s something on I’ve half been watching
I’ve already lost the plot

Someone’s laughing two doors down
A car pulls up outside
I thought about going somewhere
Then changed my mind

Nothing happened
Nothing changed
For once, that’s been alright

There’s nothing else tonight
Nothing I need to do
Nowhere I said I’d be
No plans I’m running to

Everything I’ve left undone
Can stay that way till morning
There’s nothing else tonight
And I’m quite happy here

I found something in the freezer
Ate it sitting on the couch
Left the plate there for a while
Still haven’t moved it now

The heating clicked off hours ago
Blanket round my knees
Looked up and it was nearly midnight
Could’ve sworn it was ten

Nothing happened
Nothing changed
For once, that’s been alright

I nearly texted someone
To see what they were doing
Picked my phone up
Put it down

Didn’t really fancy moving

Maybe That’s Enough

admin — Fri, 16 Oct 2026 08:04:00 +0000

Not everything needs a name.
That includes whatever this is.

Maybe That’s Enough is about liking someone without immediately needing to know where it’s going. He comes over, we have a good evening, he goes home and nobody has to turn it into a conversation about what happens next. After eleven years of knowing exactly where everything belonged, I’m quite enjoying leaving a few things undecided. Maybe it becomes something. Maybe it doesn’t. I’m trying not to ruin a perfectly nice present by demanding a future from it.

► BUY

THOUGHTS, MOSTLY

You said you’d call when you got home
I didn’t ask what time
I watched you leave, then made some tea
And didn’t change my mind

You left your jacket on the chair
You’ll probably want it back
I thought about what that might mean
Then stopped myself at that

Maybe that’s enough
You come round, I let you
We stay up too late
I like being with you

Maybe that’s enough
Don’t need to make it more
You know where I live
You know which one’s my door

You asked me what I’m doing Friday
I said I wasn’t sure
A year ago I’d need a reason
Now I don’t anymore

There’s still a toothbrush in the drawer
I haven’t made you space
You haven’t tried to leave one here
I rather like it that way

Maybe that’s enough
You come round, I let you
We stay up too late
I like being with you

Maybe that’s enough
Don’t need to make it more
You know where I live
You know which one’s my door

My friend asked what we’re calling this
I said I didn’t know
She waited for the rest of it

There wasn’t any more

Maybe that’s enough
You come round, I let you
We stay up too late
I like being with you

Maybe that’s enough
Don’t need to make it more
You know where I live
You know which one’s my door

Maybe that’s enough
For now, I think it is

Not My Usual

admin — Fri, 16 Oct 2026 08:03:00 +0000

Apparently, “not my usual”
isn’t the same as “not me.”

Not My Usual is about the small pleasure of realising nobody else gets a vote anymore. I went looking for clothes, tried on things I’d normally walk straight past and spent slightly more than I intended. Nothing profound happened. I just stopped asking whether something looked like the person I’d been for the last eleven years. The jacket was unnecessary, the bags were getting heavy and I probably didn’t need half of it. I had a very nice afternoon.

► BUY

THOUGHTS, MOSTLY

I only came in for a look
That’s what I told myself
Now there’s six things on my arm
And three more on the shelf

The green one’s probably too much
The red one’s slightly tight
The woman says it suits me
So naturally, she’s right

I would’ve put it back before
Said it’s not really me
Funny how much easier that gets
When no one’s there to disagree

It’s not my usual
That’s why I like it
Little too bright
Might still buy it

I don’t need somewhere
Special to wear it
If it looks good
That’s reason enough

It’s not my usual
Maybe that’s the point
I’ve had the usual
Long enough

I tried the sensible one first
It made me look like work
The blue one nearly had a chance
Until I saw the skirt

I found a jacket half price
That I absolutely don’t need
Walked around the shop without it
Then went back for it at three

I used to hear an opinion
Before I’d even left the room
Now the only voice I’m listening to
Says get the better shoes

Two bags and a coffee
More than I meant to spend
I’ll probably take one thing back

Probably

Not today

It’s not my usual
That’s why I like it
Little too bright
Already bought it

I don’t need somewhere
Special to wear it
If it looks good
That’s reason enough

It’s not my usual
Maybe that’s the point
I’ve had the usual
Long enough

Black Dress

admin — Fri, 16 Oct 2026 08:02:00 +0000

Eleven years is a long time.
Apparently, it still fits by the door.

Black Dress is about what remains once a long relationship has been reduced to boxes, possessions and two rather different versions of what happened. There are things worth arguing over and things you eventually realise aren’t worth another conversation. The dress stays. So does my name, my side of the story and, rather inconveniently for him, a perfectly functional life afterwards. He can keep the good towels.

► BUY

THOUGHTS, MOSTLY

You took the good towels when you left
And somehow left the bills
Three boxes marked “not worth much”
Were mostly mine, but still

You’d cleared your side by half past two
I’d changed the lock by four
Funny how eleven years
Fits neatly by the door

I found the restaurant receipt
From somewhere you once lied
Two drinks, a meal, a Tuesday night
You said you’d worked till five

I nearly rang to ask you why
Then put the phone away
I’d known enough for long enough
There wasn’t more to say

I kept the black dress
I kept the receipt
I kept my name
You kept your story

You took the towels
You took your things
You took eleven years
And called it leaving

I kept the black dress
(black dress)
It still looks good on me
And I won’t be sweet
No, I won’t be sweet

Your mother called on Sunday night
To tell me you’re “not well”
I said I’m sorry, naturally
She had a lot to tell

Apparently you mention me
Whenever things go wrong
It’s nice to know I’m useful still
Now that I’ve moved on

You always liked the version where
I couldn’t cope alone
Still falling into pieces
Still waiting by the phone

Sorry if it spoils the story
Nothing fell apart
I bought myself a bigger bed
And sleep right in the middle

You can tell them I was difficult
I’ll give you that for free
Tell them whatever works
As long as it was mostly me

Just leave out Wednesday morning
When you came back for your things
And stood there in the doorway
Waiting to be let back in

One Law For Everyone

admin — Fri, 16 Oct 2026 08:00:00 +0000

One law for everyone.
Some assembly required.

One Law for Everyone was inspired by a 76-year-old pensioner who managed to turn a burqa into something considerably more troublesome than a fashion statement. He’s studying Islam, considering conversion and identifies as a woman. Britain has spent years explaining how important it is to respect religious belief, gender identity and the law. Splendid principles, all of them. Then along comes an elderly gentleman who decides to take the instructions rather literally, and suddenly everyone needs to consult the manual. The police have their interpretation, the courts have theirs, and somewhere in Whitehall there’s probably a civil servant frantically searching for the section entitled “What If Somebody Actually Tries This?” The remarkable thing is that he hasn’t needed a megaphone, a protest march or even a particularly sturdy pair of shoes. Just a veil and an apparent willingness to test how all these carefully worded principles fit together. Whether his legal argument succeeds is for the court to decide. In the meantime, the questions are rather entertaining. One law for everyone. Apparently. Just don’t ask everyone at once.

► BUY

EVIDENCE

Seventy-six, a public menace,
Armed with nothing but a veil.
Britain’s finest wrote the rulebook,
Then watched their logic fail.

They banned the masks, then made exceptions,
Left the small print nice and wide.
An old man took them at their wording,
And watched their courage hide.

He’s studying Islam, might convert,
Identifies as a woman too.
Now the experts need a meeting
To decide which rules are true.

They can define a hundred genders,
They can lecture us on faith.
But a pensioner in Portsmouth
Has them checking every page.

One law for everyone,
What a lovely little lie.
Seventy-six, beneath a burqa,
With a courtroom asking why.

One law for everyone,
One pensioner, one veil.
A rulebook full of exceptions,
And a law put on trial.

Another veil, another protest,
High-vis jacket, denim jeans.
That one’s treated as religion,
This one’s treated as a crime scene.

They’ve got principles for the cameras,
They’ve got standards for the press.
They’ve got very different answers
When the wrong man wears the dress.

No one’s checking holy scripture,
No one’s measuring belief.
Just a sudden burst of certainty
When it’s someone they can brief.

One law for everyone,
What a lovely little lie.
Seventy-six, beneath a burqa,
With a courtroom asking why.

One law for everyone,
One pensioner, one veil.
A rulebook full of exceptions,
And a law put on trial.

Then he turned up at the court,
The same black veil upon his face.
They asked him to remove it,
And made another special case.

Would they ask another woman?
Would they risk the same offence?
Suddenly the fearless system
Found a little common sense.

The law’s not blind, it’s short of glasses,
And the guidance needs a guide.
They’ve got courage by committee,
And a different rule for each side.

They preach respect and equal treatment,
Then get tangled in the cloth.
An old man doesn’t need to shout
To pull the bloody curtain off.

One law for everyone,
What a lovely little lie.
Seventy-six, beneath a burqa,
With a courtroom asking why.

One law for everyone,
One pensioner, one veil.
They wrote the rules to govern him,
Now the rulebook’s on trial.

No riot shield, no master plan,
No great revolutionary.
Just a pensioner in a burka,
And a state that’s scared of irony.

Already Happened

admin — Tue, 13 Oct 2026 08:04:00 +0000

Nobody tells you it’s the last time.
They assume you’ll notice.

Already Happened is about the ordinary endings that never announce themselves. We expect important moments to arrive carrying music, speeches or at least a reasonable amount of ceremony. Most don’t. They arrive disguised as routine: the last familiar journey, the last visit to a place, the last conversation before life quietly rearranges itself around something else. Only later, often years later, do they reveal what they were. Indi-Glo Blue isn’t mourning the past so much as noticing how effortlessly it slips into it. The important days rarely look important while we’re living them. They mostly look like Tuesday.

► BUY

OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

Funny thing about last times.
Most of them have already happened.

There was a road I used to drive
without deciding where it led.
Knew the corners, knew the houses,
knew which lights would change ahead.

Couldn’t tell you when I stopped.
Nothing said to pay attention.
One day it was part of everything.
Then it wasn’t anymore.

No closing scene.
No final line.

Just something ordinary
for the final time.

It already happened.
Didn’t notice when it went.
No last look, nothing marked it.
Just another day
I didn’t think to keep.

It already happened.
I only noticed afterwards.

There were people I saw constantly.
Then monthly.
Then sometimes.

Nobody fell out.
Nothing broke.
Life just got remarkably good
at filling in the gaps.

Places changed eventually.
Shops went, signs came down.
I still know exactly where things were.
Which isn’t much use now.

No warning bell.
No grand goodbye.

Just one more ordinary
final time.

It already happened.
Didn’t notice when it went.
No last look, nothing marked it.
Just another day
I didn’t think to keep.

It already happened.
I only noticed afterwards.

There are clothes I stopped wearing,
songs I somehow stopped putting on.
A version of me knew every word.
He seems to have moved along.

Things I thought I’d always do
became things I used to do.
No decision.
No announcement.

Apparently that’s enough.

You expect the important ones
to look important.

They don’t.

They look like Tuesday.
Half past four.
Keys on the table.
Nothing unusual.

Then years later you realise…

that was it.

It already happened.
Didn’t notice when it went.
No last look, nothing marked it.
Just another day
I didn’t think to keep.

It already happened.
No warning.
Nothing changed.

Just something I was still doing…

until I wasn’t anymore.

Funny thing about last times.
You usually find out late.

Getting Toxic

admin — Tue, 06 Oct 2026 08:03:00 +0000

Everyone should have a voice.
Just not during my post.

Getting Toxic quietly observes one of social media’s favourite contradictions. Platforms are celebrated as places for conversation, debate and free expression, right up until the conversation starts travelling in an unexpected direction. Praise counts as engagement. Disagreement somehow becomes “toxicity.” Indi-Glo Blue isn’t interested in online arguments as much as the strange performance surrounding them: announcing departures, explaining breaks, limiting comments for wellbeing, then returning a week later because the algorithm, unfortunately, never learned to miss anybody. It’s a song about wanting an audience more than a discussion, and discovering they’re not quite the same thing.

► BUY

OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

Million people following, so naturally you’ve got some things to say,
another little lesson for the people getting life the wrong way.
Free speech matters, every voice deserves a chance to make some noise,
funny how it works much better when they’re listening to your voice.

Thousands tell you “well said”, hundreds tell you that you’re right,
all that healthy conversation carrying you through the night.
Then a few start answering, apparently they’ve got opinions too,
that’s when open conversation gets a little toxic for you.

Use your voice, speak your mind,
everyone deserves one…
the approved kind.

It’s getting toxic, something’s changed,
people keep replying in completely different ways.
It’s getting toxic, can’t you see?
Everybody gets a voice,
just preferably not at me.

Praise is healthy feedback, disagreement’s something else instead,
one gets hearts and thank-you messages, the other’s better left unread.
Block another hundred while defending everybody’s right to speak,
nothing inconsistent there, you’ve made that perfectly clear all week.

Comments limited for wellbeing, taking time to clear your head,
seven paragraphs explaining why you’re leaving in a thread.
Please respect the privacy surrounding everything you’ve shared,
and thanks for all the lovely public messages that show you care.

Speak your truth, make it heard,
everybody matters…
mind the words.

It’s getting toxic, something’s changed,
people keep replying in completely different ways.
It’s getting toxic, can’t you see?
Everybody gets a voice,
just preferably not at me.

Taking time away now, social media isn’t healthy anymore,
statement’s been reposted by the team who’ll keep on running things for sure.
Thanks for all the lovely comments underneath the leaving post,
nice to know that stepping out can somehow generate engagement most.

Back to clarify the rumours, back to thank you for support,
back because the press have taken something slightly out of sorts.
Then a quiet week of healing till there’s something new to plug,
welcome back, refreshed and stronger,
please remember, like and love.

Stepping back, logging out,
one more post to tell you all about.

It’s getting toxic, something’s changed,
people keep replying in completely different ways.
It’s getting toxic, can’t you see?
Everybody gets a voice,
just preferably not at me.

It’s getting toxic, time to leave,
thank you for respecting this announcement in your feed.
It’s getting toxic, that’s enough…
See you when I’ve something new to plug.

Light Touch

admin — Wed, 30 Sep 2026 09:40:07 +0000

Your privacy matters.
Right up until somebody can make money from it.

Light Touch grew out of growing calls to replace Britain’s data protection laws with a more “light-touch” approach in the name of innovation, AI and economic growth. Apparently the real obstacle to progress wasn’t a lack of technology, investment or ideas. It was the irritating habit of ordinary people expecting to know who was collecting their information and why. Funny how privacy is always described as a fundamental right until it starts slowing somebody’s business plan. Then it quietly becomes paperwork, bureaucracy and something we’d all be better off having a little less of. Just trust them. Probably.

► BUY

EVIDENCE

Your privacy matters to us.
It’s just becoming
a little inconvenient.

Fill in your name, tell us where you live
Tell us who you voted for, there’s prizes to give
Tell us who you’ll vote for when election day comes
Maybe your whole street gets the heating bill done

Nothing suspicious, it’s a harmless little game
Just your politics, your postcode and your name
Then somebody asks what you’re gathering it for

Funny how nobody likes that question anymore

Privacy’s important
That’s what they always say
Right until the regulations
Start getting in the way

Light touch, light touch
Cut the red tape down
All those pesky little rules
Getting business off the ground

Your data’s safe with us
Probably
That’s the line
Just give us fewer rules
And everything will be fine

Light touch, light touch
Nothing here to see
Funny how your privacy
Became bureaucracy

Now GDPR’s the villain, strangling enterprise
Too many awkward questions about who gets what and why
Innovation needs your data, AI needs feeding too
Apparently the problem is the law protecting you

Access and objection, deletion if you please
Awful lot of rights when there’s money in the machine
So strip away the burden, let the future through

They probably won’t do anything
you wouldn’t want them to

Probably won’t profile you
Probably won’t share
Probably won’t find another use
For everything that’s there

Probably.

Light touch, light touch
Cut the red tape down
All those pesky little rules
Getting business off the ground

Your data’s safe with us
Probably
That’s the line
Just give us fewer rules
And everything will be fine

Light touch, light touch
Nothing here to see
Funny how your privacy
Became bureaucracy

When they want your data
It’s innovation

When you want it protected
It’s regulation

When they want fewer rules
It’s economic growth

And when you ask where this ends?

Well…

Nobody’s proposing anything.

Yet.

Give them your postcode
Give them your vote
Give them your habits
Whatever you wrote

Give them the rules
Then watch them complain
That protecting the public
Is holding back gain

Light touch, light touch
Cut the red tape down
Privacy’s expensive
When there’s data going round

Your data’s safe with us
Probably
So relax
They only want the freedom
To loosen up the Acts

Light touch, light touch
Progress guaranteed
Funny how your private life
Became something business needs

We value your privacy.

Probably.