MUSIC · BIG-BEAT BAND BLABOVY STROMY
About the grey in photos and in people — and about the places where grey is gone.
I found an old photo of a lady
she was black and white, and everything
behind her was black and white too
It gave me a real fright,
how grey she was in the face,
beautiful but pale as a concrete block
Hey, hold on there, ma'am,
are you ill,
or is something hurting you
I took a photo of a man outside
he was grey, grey and grey
and everything around him gleamed grey too
Now that really isn't normal any more
even though a photo doesn't lie
and behind that grey there's surely disappointment
You look terrible
are you ill, sir
forgive me for asking like this
everywhere I look it's grey
I’m thinking how I could best help
take a rainbow in hand and swing it about wildly
all eyes rolling up, all eyes going upwards
and right there I sense the point of today’s programme
They are
things above us and pylons strung with wires
they are above the surface of the clouds
they are, they are
They are
there are places where the grey is gone
there are, where colour doesn’t know what pale means
they are, even when you say no!
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