BARD RECORDS

Tag: Lyrics

  • Quarterly

    Quarterly



    INDI-GLO BLUE

    Another three months completed.
    Please provide evidence.

    Quarterly watches productivity escape the workplace and follow us home. Hobbies become side projects, rest needs justification and even an ordinary day feels better once it has something measurable to show for itself. Somewhere along the way, simply spending time became suspicious unless we could explain what it produced.

    Quarterly



    ► Indi-Glo Blue • Quarterly • Reasonable BUY
    OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

    Morning starts with silent lists
    Unfinished tasks from yesterday
    Sleep accounted, steps recorded
    Time already filed away

    Conversations lean toward targets
    Even jokes have points to score
    “How’s it going?” quietly means
    What did you produce this for

    What did you produce

    We measure days in visible proof
    Effort only counts if shown
    Rest feels like a small confession
    Time not fully owned

    What’s your output?
    What’s it worth?
    Show the numbers
    Show the work

    If it scales, it stays alive
    If it stalls, it won’t survive

    Hobbies framed as side investments
    Friendships scheduled, tightly kept
    Every hour needs defending
    Even downtime must be prepped

    We narrate our minor progress
    Like a quarterly report
    If it cannot be presented
    It was time we couldn’t afford

    Time we couldn’t afford

    Idle hands invite suspicion
    Silence looks like falling back
    Value rests in demonstration
    Not in anything you lack

    What’s your output?
    What’s it worth?
    Show the numbers
    Show the work
    If it scales, it stays alive
    If it stalls, it won’t survive

    There was a time
    We did things slowly
    Without explaining why

    Now even rest
    Needs context
    Or else it won’t apply

    What’s your output?
    What’s it worth?
    Show the numbers
    Show the work
    If it scales, it stays alive
    If it stalls, it won’t survive

    Resonable Indi-Glo Blue
  • You May

    You May

    You’re free to choose.
    The choices have been provided.

    You May looks at freedom with terms and conditions attached. You can speak, question, lead, succeed and step inside, provided you do it in the approved way and meet the standards waiting at the door. Nothing is explicitly forbidden. The boundaries simply make certain choices considerably easier than others.

    ► BUY
    OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

    You may speak when called upon
    Keep it brief and stay aligned
    You may question minor points
    Nothing broader than the line

    You may state a mild concern
    Tone adjusted, measured, small
    You may leave the larger themes
    They’re not open to us all

    There’s a structure
    There’s a way
    You are free
    Within the frame

    You may
    Proceed
    You may
    Agree

    You may
    Step inside
    If you qualify

    You may share a tempered view
    Nothing sharp enough to cut
    You may raise a careful hand
    Once the door is partly shut

    You may grow, but not too fast
    You may lead when told to lead
    You may win within the rules
    You may want what we concede

    Opportunity exists
    In clearly marked domains
    Freedom thrives
    In ordered lanes

    You may
    Proceed
    You may
    Agree

    You may
    Step inside
    If you qualify

    No one said you couldn’t try
    No one said you weren’t allowed
    We simply keep the standards high
    And the thresholds quietly proud

    You may
    Comply
    You may
    Apply

    You may
    Step inside
    If you qualify

    Application pending

  • Still Here

    Still Here



    INDI-GLO BLUE

    Nobody measured it.
    It still mattered.

    Still Here turns towards the things that survive without an audience. A conversation, a small kindness, someone choosing to stay when leaving would be easier. None of it trends, scales or produces anything measurable. It simply happens between people, quietly and imperfectly, and perhaps that is enough.

    Still Here



    ► Indi-Glo Blue • Still Here • Reasonable BUY
    OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

    The lights stay on a little late
    In windows down the street
    Someone waters quiet plants
    On concrete and on heat

    A message sent without a crowd
    No headline, no display
    Just small attempts at something real
    That didn’t drift away

    It’s not loud
    It’s not grand
    It doesn’t trend
    Or make demands

    Still here
    Still trying
    Still speaking
    Without shouting

    Still here
    Still small
    Not fixed
    But not gone

    A chair pulled close in quiet rooms
    Two people listening
    No metrics on the outcome
    No proof of anything

    A hand that stays when words run thin
    No need to frame the scene
    Just steady in the background
    Of everything between

    It won’t win
    It won’t scale
    It won’t break
    Or prevail

    Still here
    Still trying
    Still speaking
    Without shouting

    Still here
    Still small
    Not fixed
    But not gone

    Maybe that’s enough
    For now

    Still here
    Still trying
    Still speaking
    Without shouting

    Still here
    Still small
    Not perfect
    But not gone

    Still here

    Resonable Indi-Glo Blue
  • Reasonable (Single)

    Reasonable (Single)

    Reasonable people
    rarely make a scene.

    Reasonable watches restraint become a comfortable place to hide. Every argument can be softened, every position balanced and every awkward conclusion postponed in the name of maturity. Nothing is denied outright. Nothing is challenged either. Staying reasonable eventually becomes another way of staying safely uninvolved.

    ► BUY
    OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

    I don’t rush to choose a side
    I prefer to wait and see
    There are points on both accounts
    It’s not as clear as it should be

    I avoid the sharper words
    They only escalate
    There’s value in restraint
    In letting things abate

    Balance is maturity
    Volume rarely helps
    It’s better to observe
    Than involve yourself

    I’m reasonable
    I stay composed
    I keep the edges
    Closed

    I’m reasonable
    I don’t insist
    I leave the fire
    Un-kissed

    I won’t say that something’s wrong
    Not fully, not outright
    It’s more complex than it appears
    No need to amplify

    There are facts on either side
    Depending how you stand
    It’s wiser not to interfere
    With what you understand

    What you understand

    Conviction can be dangerous
    It narrows what you see
    Certainty is often just
    A lack of subtlety

    I’m reasonable
    I stay composed
    I keep the edges
    Closed

    I’m reasonable
    I don’t insist
    I leave the fire
    Un-kissed

    It’s not my place
    To intervene
    I wasn’t there
    I haven’t seen

    And if I had
    I’d still agree
    That things are rarely
    Binary

    I’m reasonable
    I stay composed
    Nothing altered
    Nothing opposed

    I’m reasonable
    I stand apart
    With steady voice
    And careful heart

    I did my part

  • Cultural Amnesia

    Cultural Amnesia



    INDI-GLO BLUE

    The past is still there.
    We just remember less of it.

    Cultural Amnesia looks at what happens when history survives mostly as fragments. Places change, traditions thin out and old meanings are copied without always being understood, leaving the past increasingly easy to reference and strangely difficult to retain. Nothing disappears all at once. It simply becomes a little less familiar each time it is passed on.

    Cultural Amnesia



    ► Indi-Glo Blue • Cultural Amnesia • Reasonable BUY
    OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

    Old streets erased, bricks turned to dust
    Names forgotten, lost to rust
    History slips beneath the floor
    We scroll, we skim, remember no more

    Artifacts shrink, memories blur
    Traditions vanish without a stir
    We inherit tales half-told
    Fragments fading, brittle, cold

    Cycles repeat
    Lessons fail
    Echoes vanish
    Stories pale

    Cultural amnesia
    Remembered, then gone
    We trace the past
    But the lines don’t hold on

    Festivals fade to empty screens
    Customs lost in curated streams
    We copy forms without the weight
    Rebrand the past, it’s second-rate

    History recycled, meaning thin
    Laughter echoes in rooms we’ve been
    We reach, we swipe, we disappear
    Close enough to feel unclear

    Lessons shallow
    Warnings fray
    Voices hollow
    Drift away

    Cultural amnesia
    Remembered, then gone
    We trace the past
    But the lines don’t hold on

    Once we knew
    Now we guess
    History muted
    Stories digress

    We try to learn
    The past slips past

    Cultural amnesia
    Lessons thin and worn
    We hold the fragments
    But the meaning’s torn

    Memory lost
    Try again tomorrow

    Resonable Indi-Glo Blue
  • Measured Steps

    Measured Steps



    INDI-GLO BLUE

    Small movements count,
    even when nobody notices.

    Measured Steps slows everything down to watch the quiet discipline of getting through ordinary life. Small ambitions, careful gestures and half-hidden tension sit beneath a calm surface, while time is broken into routines, screens and tiny acts of self-management. Nothing dramatic happens. The weight is in how much is being carried without saying so.

    Measured Steps



    ► Indi-Glo Blue • Measured Steps • Reasonable BUY
    OBSERVED BEHAVIOUR

    Hands fold neatly over daily news
    Coffee cools while the world reviews
    Whispers of ambition tucked behind a grin
    Measured smiles mask the spin

    Charts climb softly unnoticed sweat
    Small wins celebrated in silhouette
    Tension held like a breath half-spent
    Moments fade quietly bent

    Eyes meet screens eyes meet lies
    Moments captured truth denies

    Measured steps measured smiles
    Counting time in quiet miles
    Measured steps measured miles
    Life condensed in careful files

    Every gesture logged and stored
    Every pause subtly ignored
    Words that float then disappear
    Laugh lightly hide the fear

    Truth bends softly bends again
    Nothing’s lost nothing’s gained

    Measured steps measured smiles
    Counting time in quiet miles
    Measured steps measured miles
    Life condensed in careful files

    We glance at what we cannot hold
    Stories fade quietly told
    Hands fall still the air is thin
    All the noise is tucked within

    Measured steps measured smiles
    Counting time in quiet miles
    Measured steps measured miles
    Life condensed in careful files

    Time slips
    We move on

    Resonable Indi-Glo Blue
  • Tolerance Is a One Way Street

    Tolerance Is a One Way Street



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    Tolerance cannot mean
    one side does all the tolerating.

    Tolerance Is a One-Way Street is RebelliousBard’s rejection of a version of multiculturalism he believes demands endless accommodation from Britain while treating criticism of imported cultures, religions and practices as intolerance in itself. The song moves through knife attacks, religious exemptions, grooming gangs, flags and accusations of racism to make one deliberately uncompromising argument: tolerance that can only ever be demanded from the host society is not mutual tolerance at all.

    Tolerance Is a One Way Street



    ► RebelliousBard • Tolerance Is a One Way Street • Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? BUY
    FOR THE RECORD

    Another day, another headline they try to hide “Community tensions”, yeah, right, they’ve lied
    Knives in the street, tolerance on repeat
    But only one direction. feel the heat

    Another blade in the night, another kid on the ground
    They tell us it’s “enrichment” best not make a sound
    Nowak bleeding out, but the story’s been spun
    Kirpan exemption sacred, till the damage is done

    Last night in Belfast, Stanley knife to the neck
    Sudanese welcome, try to take off a head
    Sikh speakers debating if Nowak’s grave’s for a piss
    While the papers cry “backlash” and give tolerance a kiss

    One-way street of tolerance, bows and bent knees
    Our culture’s “problematic” but theirs? Hands off, please

    Tolerance is a one-way street, mate, don’t you know?
    Celebrate their knives, their courts, their “no-go”
    We fight for our pubs, our flags, our way of life
    And we’re the racists, while the bodies pile high
    Tolerance is a one-way street, see the signs?
    Import the problems, ignore the warning signs

    Grooming gangs rolling, thousands of girls betrayed
    But questioning Sharia? That’s the crime they’ve made
    Burqas in the classroom, Sharia in the shade
    Criticise it softly “Islamophobe” grenade

    Demand we bend over for every faith and rite
    But wave the Union Jack? You’re far-right overnight
    They carve their exceptions, we swallow the cost
    Multicultural utopia, paradise lost

    Tolerance is a one-way street, mate, don’t you know?

    How many more Nowaks, how many Belfast nights?
    Stanley blades swinging under tolerance lights
    One rule for the guests, another for the host
    Britain’s great experiment, who’s paying the most?

    Tolerance is a one-way street, mate, don’t you know?
    Celebrate their knives, their courts, their “no-go”
    We fight for our pubs, our flags, our way of life
    And we’re the racists, while the bodies pile high

    One-way street. one-way street
    Tolerance is a one-way street, mate
    How many more? How many more?
    One-way street. till it all falls down

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    Tolerance Is a One-Way Street followed closely from the events that had already fed into I Don’t Think You Have, Mate. Henry Nowak had been stabbed and, while under arrest, told an officer that he had been stabbed only to receive the now-infamous response that gave the earlier song its title. Within weeks, footage from Belfast showed another horrifying knife attack in which a man appeared to repeatedly slash at another man’s head and neck with a Stanley-style knife. For RebelliousBard, the proximity of the two incidents intensified a much broader frustration already building around immigration, religious and cultural accommodation, grooming gangs and the language used whenever those subjects become uncomfortable. The song asks why tolerance is so often presented as something Britain owes to everybody arriving within it, while expecting reciprocal respect for British culture can itself be condemned as intolerant.

    Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? RebelliousBard
  • I Don’t Think You Have, Mate

    I Don’t Think You Have, Mate



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    What happens when the people asking for protection
    stop believing it will be applied equally?

    I Don’t Think You Have, Mate takes aim at the perception of two-tier policing in Britain, moving through protests, public disorder, speech and violent crime to question whether political sensitivity has begun to influence who receives scrutiny, sympathy and protection. Its title turns one brief exchange into the song’s refrain: a statement of disbelief becoming an accusation about trust in the institutions expected to enforce the law.

    I Don't Think You Have, Mate



    ► RebelliousBard • I Don’t Think You Have, Mate • Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? BUY
    FOR THE RECORD

    Flags in the street, but only the wrong ones get snatched
    Lads on the corner, they turn the other cheek
    While grannies get raided for a mean tweet
    “Community cohesion” that’s the brief

    One side throws bricks, gets a polite chat
    Other side waves a banner, riot van’s on the mat
    Stabbings in the park, but swift only on the chat
    Priorities twisted like a bureaucrat’s knot

    They kneel for the cause when the cameras roll
    But a kid on the ground? Just another patrol

    “I don’t think you have, mate” as the blood hits the floor
    “I’ve been stabbed” , “Nah, you’re fine, settle the score.”
    Handcuffs on the victim while the killer stands tall
    Two-tier justice, watching Britain fall

    “I don’t think you have, mate”, the words that kill
    Protect the narrative, ignore the spill
    From Southport to the streets, the pattern’s clear
    Don’t think you have rights… not if you’re from here

    Nowak on the pavement, bleeding out slow
    Told ’em straight up, but they already know
    Who to believe when the script’s been sold
    Racial abuse claim better safe than bold

    Rudakubana flowers? Nah, the real blooms of grief
    Ignored reports, hushed whispers, no relief
    Grooming gangs whisper while the papers sleep
    But a tweet gone viral? Full SWAT team

    “I don’t think you have, mate” as the blood hits the floor
    “I’ve been stabbed” – “Nah, you’re fine, settle the score.”
    Handcuffs on the victim while the killer stands tall
    Two-tier justice, watching Britain fall

    “I don’t think you have, mate” the words that kill
    Protect the narrative, ignore the spill
    From Southport to the streets, the pattern’s clear
    Don’t think you have rights… not if you’re from here

    One rule for the favoured, one for the rest
    “Far-right” label sticks to your chest
    While the real trouble hides behind the vest
    Of diversity quotas and fear of the press

    How many more Nowaks before they confess?
    The two tiers are cracking under the stress

    “I don’t think you have, mate…”
    “I don’t think you have…”
    Don’t think you have justice today

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    The song was prompted by the case of Henry Nowak. After Nowak said that he had been stabbed while being detained by police, an officer responded, “I don’t think you have, mate.” That exchange became the title and central refrain of the song, and a starting point for its wider anger about policing, institutional judgement and the perception of unequal treatment under the law.

    Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? RebelliousBard
  • Hold Pattern

    Hold Pattern



    VESURA

    Keep everything moving
    by changing nothing.

    Hold Pattern turns routine into something almost mechanical: the same actions, responses and corrections repeated closely enough that nothing has the opportunity to drift. The pattern provides its own kind of stability, but underneath it sits a more uncomfortable question: whether the whole thing actually depends on never stopping long enough to find out.

    Hold Pattern



    ► Vesura • Hold Pattern • Clean Break
    AS SAID

    Wake up, same time, same route
    Same screen, same input
    Sit still, don’t break pace
    Keep form, hold your place
    Small shifts get denied
    Stay locked, don’t deviate

    Same phrase, same reply
    No change, no retry
    Hands move, task repeats
    No gap, no off-beat
    If it slips, reset fast
    Back again, match the last

    Hold pattern, don’t break
    Hold pattern, don’t change
    Hold pattern, stay exact
    Hold pattern, run it back

    If I stop
    Does it fail
    If I stop
    Does it scale

    Hold pattern, don’t break
    Hold pattern, don’t change
    Hold pattern, stay exact
    Hold pattern, run it back

    Run it back

    Run it back

    Clean Break Vesura

  • Too Much Input

    Too Much Input



    VESURA

    Everything wants attention.
    All at the same time.

    Too Much Input captures the point where ordinary noise stops arriving as separate things and becomes one continuous demand. Messages, conversations, television and music all compete for the same bit of attention until even stepping away doesn’t quieten it. Eventually there is nothing left to process; the only useful response is to switch everything off.

    Too Much Input



    ► Vesura • Too Much Input • Clean Break
    AS SAID

    Too loud already

    Phone lights up, then again
    Different threads, different ends
    Voices stack, overlap
    Can’t track who said what back
    TV on, someone talks
    Another sound cuts across

    Too much input, shut it down
    Too much input, all at once
    Every signal fighting now
    Can’t pick one, can’t adjust

    Music plays, then it clips
    Someone laughs, someone shouts
    I step back, doesn’t help
    Still it pushes in loud
    Try to filter it out
    Still it breaks through the gaps

    Too much input, shut it down
    Too much input, all at once
    Every signal fighting now
    Can’t pick one, can’t adjust

    Cut it off
    Kill the feed
    Pull the plug
    Let me breathe

    Too much input, shut it down
    Too much input, all at once
    Every signal fighting now
    Can’t pick one, can’t adjust

    still ringing

    Clean Break Vesura