I miss travel. I used to travel a lot. Sit in bars and write lyrics. Lockdowns have not been good for me. I don't seem to find inspiration to do music, I guess because normal of daily life is so close and music is much more than normal.
But a muse visited me this week and inspired me to knuckle down and produce something. Nothing perfect.. but just from the heart.
Another Angel song... long may they keep coming.
7th Trumpet.
I met Jibreel in an Irish Pub, one dry night in Dubai.
His wings were crushed beneath his coat. Ashamed he once could fly
Hunched on his stool and frowning deep into his stout
Like a prophet seeking truth, but only finding doubt.
Rise-Up Gabriel, Rise up, Let golden Wings Shine
Show me, there’s still hope left, a better life that can be mine
How many trumpets have sounded? Surely there’s still time,
So, Rise Up Gabriel, Rise up, Let Golden Wings. Let your Golden Wings shine.
The aircon was so fierce it froze, conversations swell,
we just sat beneath the TV screens, in silent rugby’s happy spell.
The Guinness was not good, but for cold comfort we gladly paid.
And as he finished up another pint, he caught my eye and said
“We’re all just strangers here, as this beer is filled and sunk.
Where you sought ideas to unite us, now I find strangers becoming drunks.
If you'd found strength together, maybe man could rise from the fall.
But all that held you now crumbles. No one sees the angels anymore.
You fill your world with distractions, your false prophets are so small.
Loners in a splintered world,
No one hears Angels, No one heeds angels anymore!”
And I guess there’s nothing for it, but for an angel to watch and wait.
To hide and bide till the end of times, now that’s shame, for heaven’s sake.
I bought him another Guinness, and together we bided Time.
A lost man and an Archangel, that night that seemed just fine.
Words and Music by Sean Doran
