Beachy Head

© Copyright of Telegraph Media Group Limited 2014

Several years ago I filmed a friend and her band as they walked along the shore below Beachy Head. She asked why there was so much glass and twisted metal lying around and I explained to her that people used this place to kill themselves by driving their cars over the cliff, because the grass on the cliff top was always wet. They knew that even if they slammed on the brakes, they would still go over the edge. It was a certain death.

She asked why I knew so much about this place and I told her of my own demons and fears and experiences of this place. That evening she and I both wrote songs that summed up how we felt, it was all we could do. This is her song (somebody here asked to see it), thankfully I don’t think any copy of mine exists. Her name is Joanne.

Here at my feet,
The metal remains,
Of hopes that died in the air.
Here at my feet,
Salt water washes over despair.

Was it for fear of the future,
Was it for guilt of the past
And where are the souls,
Oh the sea doesn’t know
And where are the souls,
Oh the rocks cannot say
And where are the souls
God only knows,
How you’re feeling today.

Here in my head,
I see an eagle that flies into the sun
Here in my head I say a prayer,
That You’d save the next one.

Is there no-one to watch over this place
To pray this evil away
Looking up at cliffs so white,
Shadows in this evening light
Looking up at sky so blue,
I can only think of You
Of You


About Words of Little Relevance

Freelance stage manager; software and web tester; Excel and map geek; Tweeter; Blogger and Cake Eater. Often back-stage in and around Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire where I move scenes, or play with lights or sound.
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One Response to Beachy Head

  1. Lou says:

    Ohhh yes, I recognise those lyrics. I still have the cassette *blush-how old fashioned* from that group.Lou

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