LYRICS "WOUND IN THE NIGHT"
GROWING OLD
Love, I’m growing old, I’ll wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair at all and leave the war to younger troubadours?
Remember when the mermaids sang, we thought they sang for you and I.
But here we are unknown with our wrinkling dugs, I am sorry love but I can’t give up the fight.
Love I’m growing old, I’ll wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled,
I’ll eat fruit by the shore and watch the white hairs of the waves undone
and when the sun goes back to sleep, I’ll tighten up my nylon strings,
and say to you, "here is where the stray tales go stay with me tonight and love we’ll have our story told."
Love I’m growing old, I’ll wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled,
I’ll feed birds at the dawn and drink the poison from the English Rose.
Remember when the future held a seaweed wreath of brown and red.
But here we are with our dreams undone, I am sorry love but I can’t give up the fight!
La La La Love I can’t give up the fight
WOUND IN THE NIGHT
Pass me the bottle and look to my eyes
Let’s tear down the curtain and speak of our times.
There’s a crack in the skin of hope and belief
Perhaps if we talk we can see what it is.
The trees, the trees are breathing despair
'coz some fools drilled holes in the air
And it’s raining in Kyev
but nothing is wet for what falls
on the heads of women and men
are the tears of a world torn by our greed and our lies.
AHA there’s a wound in the night
AHA the moon is covered in wine
AHA but the candle’s alight, won't stay for a while,
let's imagine a sign.
Tell me your fortunes and tell me your curse,
days are like knives when you plunge into yourself.
There’s a war in the West there’s a war in East
and only the rich have got tickets to flee.
The winds, the winds are stuck in the graves
and the ghosts they are praying for change.
We know it will come but before we are done
can we toast to the ones who were broken and shun
by the hammer of hearts prone to the greed and the lies!
AHA there’s a wound in the night
AHA the moon is covered in wine
AHA but the candle’s alight, won't you stay for a while,
let's imagine a sign.
Nobody Knows Where We Are
Will you come back to me when magic finds its parking place?
I don’t care what mask you bring as long as we can dance again.
Can you read me some verse before time spits its curse and we sever the thread? It was only half nine when we opened the wine, now the clocks have gone blind and I am feeling so high from the quirks of your body and mind.
Nobody knows where we are, we drank the wake of the stars.
I know you mock my style, you say I push the Latin vibe.
But this is not my show, it’s a tale of two wandering lives.
Won’t you show me that move, the one where you prove,
That your country has gone wild, I am sick of the lies
Of husband and wives, won’t you show me your kite
'coz I am feeling so high from the quirks of your body and mind.
Nobody knows where we are, we drank the wake of the stars.
WHERE THE WILD THINGS GO
Lately, someone’s making this house to fall, they are planting liquid bombs in the patios of our future.
I don’t know what to make of this imbroglio, is it me or is the mojo gone? Does anyone have a spare angel?
I want to go where the wild winds go, where the wild winds go.
Tell me, did they start another war,
just because their testicles were far too overgrown?
I am sick of their show, can you show me your porticle
where you silence the void with your spicey corazon.
I want to go where the wild winds go, where the wild winds go.
The wind is a shore
when your country is torn
and you need is a guiding grace, a guiding grace.
Frankly, can we all just travel on? all I want is to shift the storm,
And maybe if we are getting on, we’ll dance the blues away.
I want to go where the wild winds go, where the wild winds go.
RETROGRADE
Girl, am I a retrograde for pining for your feline face?
My tired hand upon your waist.
Your worried head upon my chest.
So cancel me if Keats was wrong coz I need his voice more than dogs need bones and if my hand your flesh deplores, abandon me and tell me promptly.
Girl, am I a retrograde? For reading verse to all your friends?
For keeping songs in old cassettes and thinking art might tear the veil.
Please tell me now if it’s much too late to search for songs which raise the stakes, and if my voice your heart won’t wake, abandon me but please don’t fake it.
Girl, am I a retrograde? Should I just go and tear my sails?
Are songs and poems just full of lies
Are muses bound to ancient names?
So cancel me if my voice ain't right because I need a voice more than days need nights and if my oars your waves won’t find, abandon me but tell me rightly.
Girl am I a retrograde?
THE ORIGAMI BIRD
The origami bird, cut out from your dreams,
is looking for a window sill to perch its expectations.
It turns, turns, turns to anything that’s burning bright.
If you like the way it glides, don't pine for shiny ruins of love.
The moon has turned to steel.
There are blind me at the wheel.
If your pain you can’t conceal.
Smile and bat your eyelids, bat your eyelids.
The origami bird, pulled out of the sea,
glides in crazy patterns to readdress its sense of gravity.
If winds and leaves can sing then surely
you can find a voice where all your fears concede
and you’re not always on the losing, the losing team.
The moon has turned to steel.
There are blind men at the wheel.
If your wound you can’t conceal
Smile and bat your eyelids.
The origami bird, wrapped up in the night
glides in crazy patterns, glides in crazy patterns of light.
Shutters on your eyes
The mortgage flag you follow, your flat in Sleepy Hollow
where you put up rich Apollos and in luxury you wallow
and you think you’ll ditch the sorrow if you save for your tomorrow
but your pride you’ll have to swallow when the scraps of love you borrow
to survive in the caverns of your mind make your banking mask collapse
‘coz even your iphone 55 can’t make this darkness pass. AHHH
You got shutters on your eyes.
Ahh You got shutters on your eyes.
The bond of truth you sever with your marketing endeavors,
you think you’ll live forever ‘coz you got a heart of leather,
you protest about the weather but the climate groups you tether
when the last bird drops its feathers will you think you were so clever
To sell lies from the caverns of your mind where the myths of you collapse,
‘coz even your merlot 1945 can’t make the darkness pass AHH
You got shutters on your eyes, you got shutters on your eyes.
And you loved the Indian heiress coz she owned a flat in Paris
and she wore the Wall Street malice that inner troll would cherish
And the day that you were married you took off with the nanny
and you strolled around the valleys with your shades and your Armani’s
to disguise the terror and the lies in the caverns of your mind
‘coz even your imac 2095 won’t make this darkness pass. AHHH.
You sell lies from the caverns in your mind where your banking masks collapse.
‘coz even your iphone 55 can’t make this darkness light
You got shutters on your eyes. AHHH
Suzanne Valadon
I speak to the ghost of Suzanne Valadon to get help for this song
coz my pipelines are blocked with the ruins of my time.
The radio is tricked, it’s only plastic that sticks, my heroes are sick or only want gold to fill up the holes which once were their eyes.
Suzanne Valadon, can you tell me what’s wrong, we came out of the storm with nothing but phones and pyramid lies, is it the same in Paris?
Does everyone dream of 1913? When you danced in the rain, give shape to my pain and paint the ruins of my time.
I can’t hear what she says, she’s mumbling again, it seems nothing’s changed since the writers in town were paid by the page, the poets count stones in gardens and boats while jesters write odes to their own totem poles ‘coz its bitter and cold in the weeds of their eyes.
Suzanne Valadon, can you tell me what’s wrong, we came out of the storm with nothing but phones and pyramid lies, is it the same in Paris? Does everyone dream of 1913? When you danced in the rain, give shape to my pain and paint the ruins of my time.
And paint the ruins of my time.
I speak to the ghost of Suzanne Valadon to establish the forms and yester-year norms of metre and rhyme . She says I am a fool, a thief and a mule for I am stuck to the stool of making the buck, if its not in your heart don’t stand in the line.
Suzanne Valadon, can you tell me what’s wrong, we came out of the storm with nothing but phones and pyramid lies, is it the same in Paris? Does everyone dream of 1913? When you danced in the rain, give shape to my pain and paint the ruins of my time.
Blurred Horizons
Brother can you leave the mask?
The cracks in you are the cracks in us.
The scene has changed and we can’t run
We box the ghosts that we’ve become.
Blurred horizons, blurred horizons
Brother, keep your glasses clean
To tantalize this western dream.
If they don’t find a role for us
We’ll conjure up our own panache.
Blurred Horizons
You, who know our pain so well
Cannot defend the tyrant’s spell.
And if you want to keep the fight
Don’t listen to the tiny minds
Blurred Horizons
London Town
London town is hurting since you traveled back to Spain
There are men and women yearning for the theater in your veins
I know you felt unwanted but the city felt your pain
It's just so hard to say it when you are chasing the class A’s.
You carry your ruins wherever you go, if you are tired of this place
You’re tired of it all, so return to the sprawl, let's stay awake till half past four.
London Town is waiting, London town is torn, please come back to London and we’ll shape it like a song.
The mad ones are all welcome, someone’s meant to keep us sane
In the middle of a crisis in the punk crests of the waves.
There’s no more need for offices nor bet shops in Bell lane
I wish they’d plant more flowers in the cesspits of their brains.
You carry your ruins wherever you go, if you are tired of this placeYou’re tired of it all, so return to the sprawl, let's stay awake till half past four
(Chorus)
The city throws a curveball to your face
And your life becomes the dance to dodge it
No time for wisdom or enlightenment
Except in flower shops and street markets
Where else should I find it? Where else should I find it
(Chorus)
London is where it’s going on
Turn your back to those country roads
Welcome to the urban sprawl
Welcome to the urban sprawl
THE YEAR OF THE RAT (2022)
Solitude
Solitude, I think you’ve gone a little far this term, I asked you for a single room not for the whole hotel to burn.
My brothers they forgot to shave, my sisters don’t wear bras, they hang around in space all day and sing like sparrows in gowns.
And when the sacred night returns, keep your meat-hooks off my radiance, give the time for our lovers and our friends to abandon their concerns before the winter chill descends, O solitude farewell.
Solitude you are such a farce, I bet you’re pleased with this affair, the planet got its holiday while we hide like rodents under the stairs.
And when the prince of goats comes back, don’t remind me of your cul-de-sac, we are not in this party for the buck, nor to apprehend your heart, we were just savouring the stars, solitude depart.
Solitude, I am sick and tired of being alone with you, surely things must change.
O solitude you charlatan, you made porridge with our brains, whilst you and all your Eton mates take ecstasy and cocaine.
And when the sacred night returns keep your meat-hooks off our radiance, give the time for our lovers and our friends to abandon their concerns before the winter chill descends, O solitude Farewell.
Painter, Painter
Painter, painter, painter you got it all wrong,
you strived to capture the body and neglected the soul.
And who is gonna paint the thoughts that sever my sleep
when I am alone with the bottle and all of my sins?
You searched for a truth but you favoured your eyes, painter, painter, paint with your mind.
Painter, painter, painter you are not Oscar Wilde,
he knew the body is a vessel with Krakens inside.
And who will paint the flower when it’s still in a vase?
The truth is bitter and sour but it’s good for the heart.
You search for the truth but you favour your eyes, painter, painter, paint with your mind.
Painter, painter, painter, you were born with a curse,
the will to be wanted, adored and caressed,
but remember Rodin the genius of clay,
he captured the thoughts of beggars and slaves.
You search for a truth but you search with your eyes, painter, painter please paint with your mind, please paint with your mind.
Feel Like Dancing
I feel like dancing, alone in my room,
here I am the genius of mirrors and cells.
I am building a dance floor with my favourite books.
I am closing the window to my worldly concerns.
The cactus you sent will keep me in check and every time I move it will blossom in the room and in my head.
I feel like dancing, like smoke in the air,
no one’s looking so we’ll make it look better.
The lights will be matching the shirt I will wear
and the music will reach them if they happen to care.
The cactus you sent will keep me in check
and every time I move it will blossom in the room and in my head.
You see all the memories return when I spin like a bird in the genderless roulette of waltzing by myself.
I feel like dancing, alone in my room,
here there’s no wrestling with petulant views.
The man and the woman are sharing the grudge
and migrants from Yemen have springs in their hearts.
The cactus you sent will keep me in check and every time I move it will blossom in the room and in my head.
Sellotape My Heart
O Fantasy I need your strings, ‘coz mine are broken,
you see they closed the bars and I kind of lost the gnome.
He went to Spain to look for the grave of García Lorca,
the nightingales and I are dealing with the loss.
Yet I can’t complain I got a ticket to the future,
I found it in a poem by Charlie Baudelaire,
though I wonder if I’m ever gonna use it
'coz there’s no one new writing in Marseille.
Sellotape my heart my friend sellotape my heart,
Sellotape my heart, let’s start a coup d’etat.
Democracy what did you bring, now we’re all bloated?
The activists are fighting demons on their phones
whilst Genghis Khan sets the wheels in motion
and we all sit around and wrestle with our ghosts.
Sellotape my heart my friend sellotape my heart,
Sellotape my heart, let’s start a coup d’etat.
Remember when we used to dance, we took our faith on a wild romance, now it seems we are all sealed and bound to the lies of the money louts.
Sellotape my heart my friend sellotape my heart,
Sellotape my heart, let’s start a coup d’etat.
Everyday News
All of the pieces which make up your mind
all of the stories and all of the lies.
The kites in your window, the cradle inside,
the angel who quivers, the fable which died.
I'd paint you a picture but you change every day
from a nun in Calcutta to a bride in Bombay.
Do you want to read me like I read you?
Are you tired of the pantomime of the everyday news?
The body you walked in, the lines of your face,
the friendships you treasure and the ones you misplaced,
the ghosts in your wardrobe, the crowns in display,
the nights you discouraged me to encourage the rain.
I'd write you a letter but you move every day
from the slums in Calcutta to a Beach in Bombay.
Do you want to read me like I read you?
Are you tired of the pantomime of the everyday news?
The prison of sameness, the window of trust,
the gleam and the brightness, the mould and the rust.
Tomorrow's a statue we are chiselling today,
let's travel to China, let's move to LA,
let’s travel to China, let’s move to LA.
The Dreams of The Poor
Where do they go? The dreams of the poor, they plummet like snow wiped from the tail of a space station, and you, you hunt down the light with a sieve and a knife, can I hunt it with you in the drunken night? The thief holds a mirror, he laughs and bows to his greed, I once met a hero but it seems we all wanted to kneel, kneel to a king.
How do you pay for a flat in Paris? Must you sell your moustache or paint the wives of the banking staff? Will you give me a brush to wipe out the farce of the Forbes parade and the Vogue charade. The king holds a mirror and cries at the troughs on his hands, the void, the void is an anarchist she says, it won’t discriminate, the black, the grey and the white are all waiting in line.
Where do they go? The dreams of the poor, are they the same? Will they see the light?
Give me a flame, the tent has gone dark, chicken joints surge as poets talk of the death of the I, and here, they’re trading a nurse for a snake and a purse, and a year’s pass to the Russian dance. The fool holds a mirror, he laughs and smiles at his luck, does he know the system is broken and his crown is just meat for the sharks, for the money-mad sharks.
Where do they go? The dreams of the poor, where do they hide? Will we ever find the reason to know, they are still in our bones. Where do they go, the dreams of the poor?
Dance On In An Empty field
Are you tired of staring through the window?
Did you dream grapes that dried up in your home?
I would start a bar just to see you drinking
to watch your lips dissemble in a song.
Are you praying for your shades, did you get sick of your third eye? Do you want to sing loud? Did the bastards grind you down?
Dance on, in an empty field, dance on.
Do you want me to hide under the stairway or perhaps pretend that I am the rock, ‘coz love’s a game for open highways and the plague has trapped us in a box. Will you manage to breathe when the government lies? Do you have space for your wings? Did you find juice for your mind?
Dance on in an empty field, chica dance on, all through the night, dance on, whirling away like a hurricane of light, dance.
We are now kings and queens of this strange domestic bliss, won’t you spread your wings and glide into the fireworks of the tent of art and the roads to our intoxicated love.
Did your angel dissolve into the ether, is the coffee strange without your friends? I’d free a bull to watch you tame its pneuma. I would cheer you from the comfort of my words. Are you sick of the screen? Would you rather a brawl?
Do you need a new gown, did the bastards grind you down?
Dance on in an empty field, chica, dance on, all through the night, dance dance on in an empty field.
Vamos niña, caminemos hacia atrás como dos ideas vírgenes hacia el primer deslumbramiento, sin haber aprendido a dudar de todo, con ganas de perderse y también de llegar, como un trompo ardiente hacia un lugar en el subconsciente, más allá de la oficina, más allá del diccionario, más allá de la pintura, más allá del dolor, más allá del dolor.
All That We Have
Tear the curtain baby, aren’t you tired of living in withering heights or in any of the fancy novels that you like. My mask don’t fit my mind and I am sick of the carnival inside, won’t you show me where heroes hide, in the big-wheels of your eyes.
We won’t howl this time nor pretend that it is alright, we’ll take it as it comes and chase those setting suns before we fall into the spiral wheels of love.
This all that we have, won’t you treat it baby like we never gonna part.
Stay close to the wound, the wound is a sea that gives shape to the boat, we need the pain baby or we will get it all wrong. It’s all up to us, Dylan left his gnome in a savings trust. He said it was a gift baby but it’s a gun and a pass of darkness and light, don’t pretend it’s alright, let’s see how it goes with our friends and our foes ‘till the sassiness goes and we are left with the love.
This all that we have, won’t you treat it baby like we never gonna part.
These cobwebs are like mould inside since the day you said you’d give it all away for some plays on Spotify.
This is all that we have, won’t you treat it baby like we are never gonna part.
When The City Wakes Up
What will you do, when the circus is back?
With its lights and its claps and its tall acrobats.
Will you still hold my hands when the strangers intrude?
With their neon parades and their crocodile shoes.
O love it’s just you and me, is it so hard to keep the flame alive?
O love there’s so much to see, will you see it with me when the city awakes and pops its pills again?
How will you count the days to the feast?
Will you count them with joy or be doleful and mean
and the holiday stud who whispered your name,
will you follow his lead or stay here in the rain?
O love it’s just you and me, is it so hard to keep the flame alive?
O love there’s so much to see, will you see it with me when the city awakes and pops its pills again?
What will you do, when the circus is back?
With its lights and its claps and its tall acrobats.
The Year Of The Rat
Caligula pines for a piece of the pie, he stole beg and lied and covered his eyes with a mask and a flag. You say he’s a curse but the cyclops are worse, they sold our distress to a corporate mess in Taiwan for a dime.
Remember your punch as it threatened the air, you didn’t succeed but at least you did care for us here in the year of the rat.
Don’t get me wrong I am not a peach, I drink more than I sing and I traded my dreams in the night for a crown.
I didn’t whinge when they padlocked the gym but when drinking joints fell I whined and I screamed for the juice in my town.
Remember your throat as it funnelled the air, you didn’t do much but at least you did sing for us here in the year of the rat.
Stay here as long as it lasts, alone I will crash into a thousand million manic broken sullen weeping plastic cars.
They tore down the bridge and made England concede to terror and greed so that dragons in wigs could afford their flats in Japan.Last month they changed the rules of the game now I am stuck in a cage with fear and regret as my pals for a while.
Remember your punch as it threatened the air, you didn’t succeed but at least you did care for us here in the year of the rat.
1. We Can Write England All Over Again
The night has turned your compass into dust,
you are hanging like a tightrope in the rain
and now that London told you all its lies,
you wonder if there is future in this place.
But girl if you’re tired don’t go away
we can write England all over again
and when they parade with their guns and their blades
we can write England all over again.
They say that stubborn men hold on to their flags
when life and faith have ceased to be aligned.
But what’s the use of living in a lie
when all you got are spiders in your mind.
But girl if you’re tired don’t go away
we can write England all over again
and when they parade with their guns and their blades
we can write England all over again.
Bridge (we can write England all over again)
Take me to a land in Innisfree
where everyone is listening to the band,
where faces merge in song and poetry
and plenitude is all that we demand.
2. An Angel Sleeps In Your Mirror
An angel sleeps in your mirror
It wants to wake up but you won’t let it sing,
you’re too busy now narrating the end of the world
and you tell me I am a jerk for wearing a smile.
Oh leave me here with my fantasy
I still believe in the nights of old Paris
where angels might win.
You came to me covered in barnacles
I tried to get in but the tide was out
And now it seems you blame my ponderous claim
that love is a game which you will never command.
Leave me here in my Leningrad
It’s better than your fishcake heart, I’ve started to hate
your storm in a dress.
An angel weeps in your mirror,
it wants to elope your dawn of steel
but you won’t give in, your season of rain
and the irony won’t help, nor your fling with Class A’s.
Leave me here in my Innisfree,
I need to halt your darkened wheels, they lost their appeal
when you bought the TV.
An angel lies in your mirror
It wants to wake up but your hide’s too thick
but now you say the angel is dead
and its all in your head, as you summon the end.
Leave me here with my poetry
I will find the bridge to someone else’s dream,
I will try and make them believe.
3. Almost Perfect Face
Forgive me pretty lady but I said your name too soon,
there were roosters on my steeple when you danced across the room,
I observed the lads beside you and I thought I could compete
But when you moved right to me and I felt tremors in my feet,
I guess I am a gypsy and I do what my blood says
If you have an antidote for beauty please deliver it today
before I drown inside the pit of your almost perfect face.
There were many implications when you wore my ragged coat
You claimed I was captain when in truth I was the boat.
I sail inside your body like a coked-up butterfly
and when the dream was over I had band aids on my eyes.
I guess I am a novice when it comes to love’s hotel
I thought you wanted fire when in truth you wanted hell,
I was blinded by your embrace and your almost perfect face.
BRIDGE
Love is a window where your branches stretch,
there are mirrors in the moon that show me what I crave,
the thread, a bridge, a touch of your almost perfect face,
Forgive me pretty lady, I am still to learn of love
I thought I’d found it in a movie but it didn’t match my heart,
all my friends they told me, it’s a kingdom in the sky
but when I looked above me I just saw missiles flying by
I guess you need a poem to shape its surf crest
all the ones who know are still going for the chase,
of the mirage, of the conceit of your almost perfect face.
BRIDGE
Child of the night, child of the back streets, I need to write you down.
4. Ibrahim Gokcek
Ibrahim, I hear you scream in the quietude of the night,
they said you played the bombing game
when all you had was your guitar.
And they took your holy weapon
So you weaponised your gut
and now you hold your very death
with your finger tips to protest against their lies.
Ibrahim, there is a war within, we face cyclops and their knives
and we are sick and tired of the troglodytes
who keep stamping on our time.
When freedom was a passing train
which forgot to stop for us
and now you hold your very death
like a daffodil to lighten up our minds.
I know we will find you in our bones
and in the hunger of our souls.
The very walls of scorching steel,
would not defer your battle cry,
and the hunger your soul would feel
would lighten up our minds.
Ibrahim I hear you scream in the quietude of the night,
they said you played the bombing game
when all you had was your guitar.
And they took your holy weapon
So you weaponised your gut
and now you hold your very death
with your finger tips to protest against their lies.
5. Overstay your welcome
In love, how do you know when you’ve overstayed your welcome
or if they want somebody knew, a messenger of smoke with their pockets full of tales
will they tell you with your soup, at any given time in any given day
or wait for spells of rain to drown the birds of love, the birds you thought you knew.
If you led me into this rendevouz, please remind what a man should do.
Should you look for sunken eyes or letters to their friends,
what if they wanted time and you pressed them for a sign, a symbol of their faith.
Should you stay there with the light or blow the fuse and run
what if the days go by and you wish you would return to the hole you had become.
If you see me down this road again, please remember I am not the only one to blame.
And the challengers we see should we treat them as our friends, or mute the light they give before they can remain and illuminate our beds,
Is it just a race? Or a relay team of hearts?
When all the stars you knew are begging for a room in the Grand hotel of Art.
If you wonder what the hell went wrong.
please remember even Rome was meant to fall.
6. Nosediving into the night
Girl you are right I am nose diving, nose diving into the night
I abandoned my pistols in Croydon, I felt I was too old for the fight.
The last time I sang I summoned the muse but she was busy watching a soap on TV
my answer was smoking and drinking until the feeling made its way back to me
Oh the preacher was pissed, he said Christ would desist to lead me anywhere near the light,
I said I’m so so sorry padre, I’m nose-diving into the night.
The doctor said I was shattered, he claimed forty was the time to collapse
But sofas were not of my liking and I was fond of the wounds of the heart
I went to Texas and Spain, travelled to Chile and France just to get a taste of the bars
And then in the back streets London I found what I knew was my art,
And my lovers they claimed, I was broken and lame, I was lost to the caves of my mind,
But I was convinced about something, nose-diving into the night.
Oh what I lost I know can find
I am not looking for another distant sky
All that I want, all I can decide, is nose-diving, nose-diving into the night.
Sometimes the bottle will beat me when I am searching for ribbons and smiles,
searching for the nozzle of longing and a walk in the outskirts of time,
And though the president says we all have to work in a factory out there in Hull,
I think he is bent on colliding with the rights of any civilised man
And the notary was mad, he said mortgage and tax would make me a true English man, I said keep your title mister, I’m still nose-diving into the night.
Oh what I lost I know can find
I am not looking for another distant sky
All that I want, all I can decide, is nose-diving, nose-diving into the night.
7. Margaret Burns
O Margaret Burns
I started a war with your friends
and all ‘cos I happened to say
I didn’t agree with the money they spend on bangles and furs
and on rye seeded bread
You see I don’ get when they claim
they like it the socialist way
But then they’re burning their fortunes away
O Margaret Burn these times are insane
We are facing the crest of monstrous waves that are leading the world back to dark and poisonous caves.
Put the mortgage away
Let’s meet in republican Spain
Where poets are lovers again
and painters they paint for the beauty of paint
And not the millions they’ll make
with their flare and their fame
O please wont you help me reclaim
that the rich are the reason the poor won’t be saved, that the poor won’t be saved.
O Margaret Burn these times are insane
We are facing the crest of monstrous waves that are leading the world back to dark and poisonous caves.
I know you wont change even if they give you money and fame
Margaret Burns they are tearing the beauty away
But I don’t care what they say.
We will battle the darkness away, till the end of our days,
‘till the end of our days.
8. When I Was A Bird
When I was a bird I used to swoop low
to peck in the crumbs of your coffee-pot soul.
When I was a bird I thought it was wise,
to try and dissolve the smog in your eyes.
But then you took me in and I fell into your mind
it was deep as the well where young lover’s die, When I was bird.
When I was a bird, in a little blue box
I kept the ruins of my past for my poems and songs.
When I was a bird I flew to Madrid
to hide in the bars from my family’s sins.
Then truth came to the door, with its two ugly brown paws
it said fool you can’t hide from the kraken inside, When I was a bird.
(Bridge) When I was a bird I was seduced by the stars that I myself put in the sky.
When I was a bird, I liked my disguise,
I hid in a bin made by your lies.
When I was a bird my beak was shaded and grey
I failed to connect with the roots of my pain.
Then truth came to the door, with its two ugly brown paws
it said fool you can’t hide from the kraken inside, When I was a bird.
When I was a bird.
9. Lady Fame
Forgive me lady fame, I am after you again and I am wasting time.
This dude came with a plan, he said we’d make it in Japan, then he stole my lines,
your laurels and your plastic faith are weapons for the western trade,
but now it seems like such a shame, not to pine for your acclaim, Oh lady fame.
I met a singer in the street, she had snow-flakes on her feet, she lifted minds,
in the morning when she woke, she searched ashtrays for a smoke and then she sighed,
“what else can we do or say? Do you need us all to betray, the canon and the flame,
for the warmth of your embrace?” Oh Lady fame.
Forgive me lady fame I am after you again and I’ve lost my mind,
I sold trickles of my pain to the idle and the stale, in the underground.
Would you please at least buy me a spade with all the money that you made,
trading beauty for a name, selling band aids to the lame, Oh lady fame.
10. Poetry Mondays
Tell me, tell me you feel it too, the spirit of the Monday rendezvous,
A singer shows her notebook to the moon, whilst poets summon muses and buffoons.
I like the theatre in your tongue, sister show me how it’s done, in this Monday carnival.
Show me, show me this is how you feel, the spirit of the Monday vaudeville,
A dancer throws her shackles to the air, whilst writers write of heaven and despair.
I want the ladders in your mind to climb into the London night, poets know what we will find.
The steeple says the fruit is ripe and all we need is some more wine to let the duende sing and the spirit rise.
Tell me, tell me this is for real, the spirt of the Monday gathering,
The hunter sees the psyche of its prey as rent and bills just seem to fly away.
I like the theatre in your tongue, sister show me how it’s done, in this Monday carnival.
Give me, give me one chance, I want to look inside and want to see your spark.
11. Poetically Resist
Push me into my sins
I am tired of this self-control
My dogs are apathetic and thin
So please don’t meditate on my window
I need to find a way to dissolve
The Western Freudian pill
Or keep my blue and lilac dream
To stay here and poetically resist
There are ruins in my kingdom
All marked with your maiden name
And the ribbons in the balconies
Are marked with the weird things you said
I need to find a way to
To revive my early dream of you
Or if reality must win
can we decide to/ poetically resist.
Bridge
I need to find a way
To build the wall again
Coz if reality must win
Can I at least poetically resist
The corners of my streets
are full with hollow banking dens
with their evil ways and their petty tricks
Don’t suit the way I see the world
I need to find a way
to make it up to Malcom X
and if the cynic lords must win
can we at least poetically resist