jowritesongs

Off the Ground

‘Time can slip and slide like changing down the gears

And when I’m on a bicycle ride, I’m unravelling the years’

The body remembers. When I pedal I’m 8, I’m 18, I’m every age I’ve ever been. The action of pedalling is so familiar. It brings back memories of bike rides past; of people, places and impressions long gone. This idea came to me on a cycle path in Central France as I watched my son fly past me on his bike and remembered myself at his age. Time flies.

Lyrics

The first taste of freedom I had in my life

Was a brand new orange chopper bike

We raced along the cliff tops on our way to the fair

I lost the others; I was first one there

I never thought I would fly, when I pedalled for the sky

But the people and the beaches and the years flew by

So did I 

Me and my friend in pedal pushers, lipstick and ray bans

Wheeling down the back streets without a plan

We just left school, we’re continental cool

Finding the Brown Bars and breaking a few rules

I never thought I would fly, when I pedalled for the sky

But the galleries and buskers and the years flew by

So did I 

A dusty track in the foothills, boyfriend by my side

He found me a bone shaker so we both could ride 

To his brother’s café beside a lake 

It took all day to cycle there but he always stayed open late 

I never thought I would fly, when I pedalled for the sky

But the villages and mountains and the years flew by

So did I 

Time can slip and slide, like changing down the gears

And when I’m on a bicycle ride, I’m unravelling the years

I’m coming around and I’m going round

I went up and now I’m coming down

I can’t say I’m lost and I can’t say I’m found

I can’t say I’m flying but my feet are off the ground

Up through the old town at the quiet time of day

Out in the open country with a picnic in the panier

Little boy; mirror of me 

Tasting his freedom in the patterned light of the shady trees

I never thought I would fly, when I pedalled for the sky

But the forests and the fields and the villages and mountains 

and the galleries and buskers and the people and the beaches and the years flew by

I’m coming round and I’m going round

I went up and now I’m coming down

I can’t say I’m lost and I can’t say I’m found

I can’t say I’m flying but my feet are off the ground