because the truth is, it’s not fair isle that’s harry’s home, it’s the man who found himself in it. it’s Louis. it was louis from the start so that’s what he starts with, putting pen to paper.
it’s you.
harry stopped on top of the cliffs sometimes, lost, weeping, heart so heavy he was sure if he let himself fall in the sea he would drop all the way to the bottom, like an anchor
harry stopped on top of the cliffs sometimes, lost, weeping, heart so heavy he was sure if he let himself fall in the sea he would drop all the way to the bottom, like an anchor
FOR YOU? ALWAYS.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
no matter how many years he’s spent under the seemingly fake LA sunshine, british all the way through. but fair Isle’s siren song calls to him differently than the rest of his country.
it’s home.
14/09/19
it’s you.
it’s you my love, who brought me back here again and again – if only in thoughts – like the never-ending storm on this island, whose winds and waves kiss the beach you walk week after week.
11/09/18
oh louis, if only there were words…
a lifetime ago, you asked me if i was a writer. i didn’t answer quite truthfully. yet here i am, dozens of songs later, pages of lyrics i penned, and when i try to think of what to say to you, i can’t remember a single word...