Despite Davy's well-known penchant for having ballad-like lyrics and straightforward instrumentations, rarely did actually pen a ballad.

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But "Inkwell Eyes" is a fine 3/4 piano number, waltzing through intricate images that demonstrate a frustration with the world at large - a common Davy theme.

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It's the story of two kindred souls - singer and the titular character, presumably female - who are buffeted about by the expectations of others and never finding grounding in themselves. Or something. I fear many of the references laden in this ballad are beyond me.

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What is surprising is that the usually meek and soulful Davy gets a little nasty here. Especially with that last line. Obviously James Davy is susceptible to every whim of emotion that the rest of the human race is, but the veiled threat to those that have wronged him and the lady of the song seem like mere words. Davy could be pretentious and self-righteous (and that's what I believe motivated the snarl of the final verse), and sometimes confrontational, but never violent or aggressive. It's a very unique perspective for him to take as a lyricist - though it may be easily explained by the immensely strained state of the band he was in at the time.

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However, none of this is to take away from the overall tenderness of the song. It is quite heartwarming as an expression of solidarity with another soul that's been taken advantage of. And musically, "Inkwell Eyes" maintains the strictly-defined tonality that sets many of Davy's work apart from Martin's or Brugin's, while also slyly dropping and adding measures as Davy was wont to do post-1967 - just to ensure the listener is still present.

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Not that Brugin's simple but effective accompaniment or Davy's wonderful voice ever needed that assurance.

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★★★☆☆