Scott Bradford: Off on a Tangent

‘Strokes’ is a conceptual piece that incorporates elements of war, loneliness, and science-fiction. I wrote most of it in 2002 and its development was driven by concerns about the direction of the world and some ideas about what would happen if we, literally, had to abandon the planet. It’s one of the most sparse collections on this site, and you are welcome to fill in the gaps (and examine the hidden meanings) as you wish.

No Regrets?

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:36 p.m.

 . . . Goodbye

I don’t regret leaving except
Leaving you alone
The plan was always that
I’d be coming home

But best laid plans of men
Yeah, even they can fail

This star field all around me
May be beautiful
But as it fades away it brings me
No peace
And all these last years,
These last tears I shed
Just spheres, floating away
Blue, and it reminds me

Home

These missing links
They hold you down
Keep you from the songs
You’d love to sing
These missing links
They hold you down
Silencing the messages
You bring

And standing on the outside, it’s easy
To judge and make our own distinctions
Through the hazy fog and all the smoke
When standing so close to the painting
You know we don’t see nothing but the strokes
Nothing but the strokes

Posted in Strokes

Famous Last . . .

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:36 p.m.

 . . . I got your message
It took a year to get here
I’m sorry about your mother
Tell everybody I said . . .

Hello, I miss you
Hello, hello
Hello, I miss you
You know, you know I . . .

Never got to tell you
How much I really cared
Never had the guts
To let you know . . .

I got your message
It took a year to get here
At the speed of light
Pointed at the . . .

Stars outside my window
Tell everybody I said . . .

Posted in Strokes

Science Wonderland

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:35 p.m.

Once upon a time we lived on solid land
Held the world in the palm of our hand
Living in our science wonderland

Ignorant faces living ignorant lives, but . . .

There’s nothing here for you to fight anymore
Refugees from a derelict world
Shadows floating through the doorways
And these fancy flags unfurled
‘Onward!’ we fly
And forward we die

When your feet grace this facing floor
You may be haunted, you may bring more
Contributions to science wonderland

Awoken tempests and sleeping giants

There’s nothing here for you to fight anymore
Refugees from a derelict world
Shadows floating through the doorways
And these fancy flags unfurled
‘Onward!’ we fly
And forward we die

So I could pick up this weightless bass guitar
Pull some strings and vibrate some air
Try out some tunes and shoot for the moon
But you remember all the words
About saving the world

Once upon a time we lived on solid land
Held the world in the palm of our hand
Living in our science wonderland

Ignorant faces living ignorant lives, but . . .

Posted in Strokes

Wings of the Saviour

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:34 p.m.

The clock counts its way down like a bomb to the ground
At its terminus rest the ways unto endless safety
It was quiet and we huddled strapped into our child seats
Until we flew on the wings of the Saviour
The wings of the Saviour

Good morning, oh apologetic mournings
And from here until tomorrow we kill the lies
The men of war lay down their arms
Along side the bones of their bodies

The clock counts its way down like a bomb to the ground
And in the end all we have is endless safety
It was cold and it was silent when we passed this way
Flying on the wings of the Saviour
The wings of the Saviour

Good morning, oh apologetic mournings
And from here until tomorrow we kill the lies
On the wings of the Saviour

Posted in Strokes

The End of the World

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:34 p.m.

Listen to the sky
Man has figured how to fly
There is truth and maybe lie
Girl, I know it
Somewhere out in the night
Silver wings take to flight
There is wrong and maybe right
Can you feel it?

This strong city skyscape
It cries through the dark
Searching for power and hope
But you know I’m
At the end of my rope

It’s the end of the world
You know how to act now
It’s the end of the world
You know what to do now

Here I am
Walkin’ on the bridges we build
Standin’ on the men that we killed

But it’s the end of the world
You know how to act now
It’s the end of the world
You know what to do now

Listen to the sky
Humming motors out tonight
Falling bombs to set things right
How ironic
I might not have told the truth
In every second of my youth
But I think it’s time we moved
Before it’s too late

This strong city skyscape
It cries through the dark
Searching for power and hope
But you know I’m
At the end of my rope

It’s the end of the world
You know how to act now
It’s the end of the world
You know what to do now
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

It’s the end of the world
You know how to act now
It’s the end of the world
You know what to do now

(Here I am)
It’s the end of the world
(Walkin’ on the bridges we build)
You know how to act now
It’s the end of the world
(Standin’ on the men that we killed)
You know what to do now

Posted in Strokes

A Million Voices

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:33 p.m.

This tile-floored palace sits before me
Atmospheric disturbance and I see it
Billowing from the skies of the southeast
A feast

And while I sit the sirens scream
Frightened patience wastes away in moments

On the way out, we’re on the way up
Time to make our hasty escape
Before time runs too late

The pavement leaps away beneath us
Rushing with a vengeance and I see it
Towering from the skies in the west
No rest

And while we run the engines gun
And slow motion moments waste away in time

On the way out, we’re on the way up
Time to make our hasty escape
Before time runs too late

These airline seats small and fearless
Lead walls closed doors and I feel it
Billowing southeastern dust cloud
So loud

And while I sit the sirens scream
A million voices cry out their finalized words

Posted in Strokes

Bugger

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:32 p.m.

Go to hell, bugger
Leave me alone
Sniper rifles at the gas station
Jet planes into skyscrapers
This world ain’t got much good
Goin’ for it anymore

Go to hell, bugger
Leave me alone
Slobbering southern chickadee
Lyin’ left and right and in-between
This world ain’t got much good
Goin’ for it anymore

Go to hell, bugger
Go to hell

So lets vote for peace
Lets keep the warplanes in the hangar
Lets keep the troops out of those
Peaceful terrorist nations
‘Cuz if we go to war
The bastards won’t be able
To kill our children anymore
Go to hell, bugger
Go to hell

Go to hell, bugger
Leave me alone
Selfish little cheeseheads
Always on the phone
This world ain’t got much good
Goin’ for it anymore

Posted in Strokes

Piece It Together

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:31 p.m.

Piece it together man, you’re losing your touch
Poetry’s supposedly is a bit too much for you
Pullin words out of your ravaged mind
Dropping them into this God forsaken paper
With the pen in your hand

Walkin’ your dog down by the river ain’t your place
Think that we don’t notice the tear lines down your face?
You never had the writers touch
Hell, you never had very much
Piece it together man . . .

You never felt like you were crawling
But deep down we all knew you were
And if tomorrow you wake up and find
The family car drives over a land mine

Well who’s crawling now?

Piece it together man, you’re losing your touch
I suppose it may have been a bit too much for you
Pulled out of your homely homeland
And dropped into this God forsaken desert
With a rifle in your hand

World War Three isn’t what we were trying to build
From our United Nations chambers and EU halls
We never meant to get the bends
We never meant to make amends
Piece it together man, you’re losing your touch

Posted in Strokes

Strokes

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:30 p.m.

We all wondered why you never tried
A little effort would have brought you far
But you had bigger plans and bigger hands
And other places to drive your fast, little car

It may not have been the right way to go, Lord I know
But it was the only route I ever knew to take

So standing on the outside, it’s easy
To judge and make our own distinctions
Through the hazy fog and all the smoke
When standing so close to the painting
You know we don’t see nothing but the strokes
Nothing but the strokes

I know it was the wrong way to go, Lord I know
But it was the only choice I ever knew to make

And standing on the outside, it’s easy
To judge and make our own distinctions
Through the hazy fog and all the smoke
When standing so close to the painting
You know we don’t see nothing but the strokes
Nothing but the strokes

Posted in Strokes

Too Little, Too Late

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:30 p.m.

Maybe those seconds just passed
Maybe there aren’t enough today
Maybe you can’t make sense of all
The people runnin’ around
In a world that’s full of blind killers
And merciless blood spillers

It’s too much too fast
Too little too late
Too quick, too slow
To love, to hate

Maybe you walk just a little too fast
Maybe you’re tryin’ to do too much
Maybe you can’t make sense of all
The horrible things that go down
In a world that’s full of haters
And technological innovators

It’s too much too fast
Too little too late
Too quick, too slow
To love, to hate

You’re not alone, my brother
Draggin along on someone else’s feet

Posted in Strokes

Missing Links

Posted October 26, 2002, 5:28 p.m.

Through these shadows you’ve always heard their voices
Their strange and crystal notions and the choices
And it was never how you meant to be
It never went this way
And the sights that you will never see
The words you cannot say
Meet within the corners of your heart

These missing links
They hold you down
Keep you from the songs
You’d love to sing
These missing links
They hold you down
Silencing the messages
You bring

In the darkness you always hear them calling
Creeping and crawling and gnawing and pawing
For the life that they will never live
You always meant so well
The gifts that they will never give
The ringing funeral bell
Closes the final page of wasted life

These missing links
They hold you down
Keep you from the songs
You’d love to sing
These missing links
They hold you down
Silencing the messages
You bring

Through the shadows you’ve always heard their voices
Their strange and crystal notions and the choices
And it was never how you meant to be
It never went this way
And the sights that you will never see
The words you cannot say
Meet within the corners . . .

Of broken hearts

Posted in Strokes

I’ll Be Coming Home

Posted May 1, 2002, 5:35 p.m.

I’m a million miles away
On some noble journey
Haven’t seen a human soul
For years
And so I hold all my sorrows
In some compartment down the hall
This far above the Earth
They’d have far to fall

I’m a million miles away
Home sparkling in the distance
And somehow it even warms this heart
Of mine
Yeah I’m a million miles away
Just a million miles away
I’ll be coming home someday
Some way

I’m a million miles away
Scrounging for just a taste
Of anything that isn’t freeze-dried
Cold
And I’m as lonely as anyone
Who’s ever shot their soul into space
Who’d give anything just to
See a human face

I’m a million miles away
Home sparkling in the distance
And somehow it even warms this heart
Of mine
Yeah I’m a million miles away
Just a million miles away
I’ll be coming home someday
Some way

Yeah I’m a million miles away
Just a million miles away
I’ll be coming home someday
Some way

Posted in Strokes

Twinkle

Posted November 1, 1999, 5:33 p.m.

Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are

Twinkle, twinkle, acid rain
A world of loneliness and pain
Is it for this so many died?
Million excuses, a million lies
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are

Wriggle, wriggle in your cave
There’s no-one here for you to save
In the end we’ll wonder why
The atom bombs ate up our sky
Wriggle, wriggle in your cave
There’s no-one here for you to save

(First Verse by Jane Taylor, 1806)

Posted in Strokes

Stripped Away

Posted November 1, 1999, 5:31 p.m.

I remember the children laughing
Running down the cracked downtown street
And I remember seeing
The bombs whiz by
GET DOWN!!!!
The laughter turned to frantic screams

-~-

There will be no more cheering
The tears away
All that remained but loyalty
Stripped away
Oh, my God, what have we done?

Posted in Strokes

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Scott Bradford has been building web sites and using them to say what he thinks since 1995, which tended to get him in trouble with power-tripping assistant principals at the time. He holds a bachelor’s degree in Public Administration from George Mason University, but has spent most of his career (so far) working on public- and private-sector web sites. He is not a member of any political party, and brands himself an ‘independent constitutional conservative.’ In addition to holding down a day job and blogging about challenging subjects like politics, religion, and technology, Scott is also a devout Catholic, gun-owner, bike rider, and music lover with a wife and two cats.

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