top of page




Thoughts without soul
Eyes that do not gleam
Men of honour absent
Natives of a dry expanse
Knowing only as one
To whom nothing is known
These are the has-beens
These are the dead-within.
A homestead built on dreams
Dreams of Death Valley
Night-time awakenings
Quench the thirst with sand
Sing the serenade
Sing to hollow trees
Sing to solid stone
And silence – a friend.
This is the rock-land
The land of sheep
This is the grave-land
Where fools stumble about.
The cowards stand
They make no mark
The scarecrows flap shirts
in stinking breeze.
“It is I,” says the raven
“I have come to point you home.”
So slight the response
So pathetic are the men
Whose souls have no thought
With hearts of charcoal
And brains of chalk.
“We have our home,” comes the reply.




The theme of this album was chosen to address a trend in modern society against concepts of symbolic worth in all we do, and ultimately, against values which underpinned centuries of socioeconomic development, in favour of monetary ends, avoidance of liability, limiting individual responsibility and moreover, securing and enlarging the power of the powerful in apathy toward the common good.
This artist has drawn inspiration from TS Eliot's The Hollow Men.
Click to return to the home page.
bottom of page