Chris Cox

Chris Cox

 Oxford, England, GBR

4 piece rock band playing exiting and accessible original songs


The Missing Persians


Mr Wilson

Written By: Chris Cox

Mr. Wilson

Pick up the spyglass Mr Wilson, tell me all that you can see
Think the horizon’s getting darker, I think it’s waving in the breeze
It’s coming closer Mr Wilson, they’ll tell us soon to hold our fire
But I have just run out of bullets, Mr Wilson, and now I’ve run out of desire.

When this is over Mr Wilson, they’ll say we served our country well
But the unimaginable madness, is something they will never tell
They’ll tell our families we were heroes, hang silver crosses on our graves
But we were just a bunch of zeros, Mr Wilson, that they could not afford to save.

I have a wife and I have children, I haven’t seen for many years
Should have been there to share the laughter, been there to wipe away the tears
To be a father to those children, not have to leave that wife alone,
To build the coming generation, Mr Wilson, instead of thinning out our own.

If by some miracle, Mr Wilson, you make it out of here alive
Make sure they know what really happened, make sure they don’t believe the lies
They’ll try to wrap it up in glory, make believe it’s justified
Please Mr Wilson do this for me, please at least promise me you’ll try.

Truth is we’re numbers, Mr Wilson, in someone else’s numbers game
We’ll be two crosses in a graveyard, that may not even get a name
There’ll be no heroes, Mr Wilson, it will be random how we fall
Just throwing numbers at a problem, Mr Wilson, just human mud against the wall.

So take the spyglass, Mr Wilson, ‘cos I won’t need it any more
I think I know what’s coming for us, this time we won’t get out for sure
And history’s never going to thank us, it’s never done so in the past
Won’t be the first time this has happened, Mr Wilson, and it will not be the last.

Coming of Age

Written By: Chris Cox


I can’t see the ground at my feet any more
Don’t hear the sound of the key in the door
Anyway, what would I open it for
There’s no one that I want to see.

My friends are all moving along with the times
Taking vacations in sunnier climes
They seem to be moving along down the line
But I seem to be standing still
I wonder if I always will.

No summer, no winter, no fall
Just night time, and daytime, that’s all
No Monday, no Tuesday, no June or July
Only these days
Watching them one by one, passing by.

Faking has taken its toll through the years
And nothing is quite like it seems it appears
But I’m trying to smile through the taste of these tears
I thought I’d forgotten to cry
And I’m trying to remember why – there’s

No summer, no winter, no fall
Just night time, and daytime, that’s all
No Monday, no Tuesday, no weekend or start
Only these dreams
Watching them one by one, come apart.

I used to believe in the books that I read
Took at face value the things that you said
Even believed in the dreams in my head
When dreaming was all of the rage.

There once was a man in the middle of things
Who firmly believed he was pulling the strings
Now he’s just biding his time in the wings
No longer to be center stage - maybe he’s just coming of age.