I spent much of my working life working for the NHS. My early brushes with psychiatric and special needs nursing left a deep impression, as much of my non-musical writing shows, and proved decisively that I wasn't well-suited to nursing. Later on I worked as an administrator, and even later as an IT security manager. All had their frustrations, but were less damaging to my equilibrium. But this song isn't about me.
lyrics
So much of her life she’s spent on wards like this
With panic locked behind her eyes and dressings on her wrists.
But last time I saw Diane, she was beating a long, long drop:
I like to think it’s not only the scum that makes it to the top.
They feed her love in millivolts, and faith in plastic spoons
Sometimes it all washes out, and she has to rush out of the room
Sometimes she hits out; mostly, she turns on herself
And in rage and desperation she seeks out the razor’s edge
But last time I saw Diane, she was beating a long, long drop:
I like to think it’s not only the scum that makes it to the top.
There’s an old man in her mirror with his own tale to tell
He has words like “communicate” and “socialize” to sell
He’s promised her that she’s learning how to crawl out of her shell
She says “He’ll get my head together, on the next cool day in hell…”
Salvation comes expensive, by the litre or the gramme
But she holds on to her anger, if that’s all that comes to hand
It’s a sword that has two edges, but she’s learning to survive
And when she’s closest to dying, anger tells her that she’s alive
But last time I saw Diane, she was beating a long, long drop:
I like to think it’s not only the scum that makes it to the top.
Now she’s going out again, to meet her life head on
Hanging with the world, as it might be by her thumbs
Most of what I’d like to say sounds trite, sounds absurd
But we’ve been lovers and we’ve been friends, and we’ve never needed those words
Next time I see Diane, she’ll still be beating the drop
I wish I could be half the person she is, if only I had half the guts
credits
from Cold Iron,
released July 22, 2021
Words & music by David A. Harley
This version was home-recorded for Ian Semple's show on Coast FM, but in the end I sang it live.
Guitar and vocal by David A. Harley
David Harley is a former professional musician, administrator, IT security editor, author and researcher, and former much else that is even less impressive. He now lives in Cornwall. More info at whealalice.com
