Versuri romana si engleza

Rezultatele căutării

Număr de rezultate: 42

27.09.2020

Stuck in the August Rain

Brings Jasmine tea on a painted tray
And bends to kiss my frown away.
But I'm still still stuck in the August rain
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
The cover's on, the coast is clear.
We're all battened down, only us here.
But I'm still still stuck in the August rain
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
And she can read my signs.
Stuck out in the August rain:
Out in the cloudburst once again.
Single-minded in my gloom.
I appear to revel in this darkened room.
But I'm still still stuck in the August rain
Stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
And she can read my signs.
Stuck out in the August rain
Out in the cloudburst once again.
Stuck out in the August rain
Out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
And she can read my signs.
 

25.05.2020

She said she was a dancer

She said she was a dancer.
If I believed it, it was my busines.
She surely knew a thing or two about control.
Next to the bar we hit the samovar.
She almost slipped right through my fingers.
It was snowing outside and in her soul.
 
Well, maybe you're a dancer,
And maybe I'm the King of Old Siam.
I thought it through...best to let the illusion roll.
I wouldn't say I've never heard that tale before,
my frozen little señorita,
But if your dream is good,
Why not share it when the nights are cold?
 
Hey Moscow, what's your story?
Lady, take your time, don't hurry.
Maybe a student of the agricultural plan.
Hey Moscow, what's your name?
If you don't want to say, don't worry.
It would probably be hard for me to make it scan.
 
With her phrase book in her silk soft hand
She spoke in riddles while the vodka listened.
I said, 'Let me look up love, if I might be so bold.'
She was the nearest thing to Rock and Roll
That side of the velvet curtain
That separates eastern steel from western gold.
 
Hey Miss Moscow, what's your story?
You needn't speak aloud, just whisper.
Am I just the closest thing to an Englishman?
You've seen me in your magazines,
Or maybe on state television.
I'm your Pepsi-Cola,
But you won't take me out the can.
 
She said she was a dancer, so she did.
She said she was a dancer.
If I believed it, it was my business.
It felt like a merry dance that I was being led.
So I stole one kiss.
It was a near miss.
She looked at me like I was Jack the Ripper.
She leaned in close. 'Goodnight, ' was all she said.
So I took myself off to bed.
 

03.01.2018

A Time for Everything?

Once it seemed there would always be
A time for everything
Ages passed I knew at last
My life had never been
I'd been missing what time could bring
 
Fifty years and I'm filled with tears
And joys I never cried
Burn the wagon and chain the mule
The past is all denied
There's no time for everything
 
No time for everything
 
06.09.2017

One Brown Mouse

Smile your little smile, take some tea with me awhile
Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder
Twitch your whiskers, feel that you're really real
Another teatime, another day older
 
Puff warm breath on your tiny hands
You wish you were a man
Who every day can turn another page
Behind your glass you sit and look
At my ever-open book
One brown mouse sitting in a cage
 
Do you wonder if I really care for you
Am I just the company you keep
Which one of us exercises on the old treadmill
Who hides his head, pretending to sleep?
 
Smile your little smile, take some tea with me awhile
Brush away that black cloud from your shoulder
Twitch your whiskers, feel that you're really real
Another teatime, another day older
 
Smile your little smile, take some tea with me awhile
And every day we'll turn another page
Behind our glass we'll sit and look
At our ever-open book
One brown mouse sitting in a cage
One brown mouse sitting in a cage
One brown mouse sitting in a cage
 
06.09.2017

Look Into The Sun

Took a sad song of one sweet evening
I smiled and quickly turned away.
It's not easy singing sad songs
But still the easiest way I have to say.
So when you look into the sun
And see the things we haven't done --
Oh was it better then to run
Than to spend the summer crying.
Now summer cannot come anyway.
 
I had waited for time to change her.
The only change that came was over me.
She pretended not to want love --
I hope she was only fooling me.
So when you look into the sun
Look for the pleasures nearly won.
Or was it better then to run
Than to spend the summer singing.
And summer could have come in a day.
 
So if you hear my sad song singing
Remember who and what you nearly had.
It's not easy singing sad songs
When you can sing the song to make me glad.
So when you look into the sun
And see the words you could have sung:
It's not too late, only begun,
We can still make summer.
Yes, summer always comes anyway.
 
So when you look into the sun
And see the words you could have sung:
It's not too late, only begun.
Look into the sun.
 
04.09.2017

Heavy Horses

Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
An October's day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest seasoning
Last of the line at an honest day's toil
Turning the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils plunder.
The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie
with the Shire on his feathers floating
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
to bed on a warm straw coating.
 
Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.
 
Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
to keep the old line going.
And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood
behind the young trees growing
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth
and your eighteen hands at the shoulder
And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
and the nights are seen to draw colder
They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power
your noble grace and your bearing
And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
in the wake of the deep plough, sharing.
 
Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.
 
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
across these acres glistening
like dew on a carpet lawn
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
as the heavy horses thunder by
to wake the dying city
with the living horseman's cry
 
At once the old hands quicken ---
bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---
thrill to the sound of all
the heavy horses coming home.
 
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
An October's day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest seasoning
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
 
Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.
 
Oh, Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.
 
Oh, Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.
 
Oh, Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free...
 
04.09.2017

Budapest

I think she was a middle-distance runner...
(the translation wasn't clear).
Could be a budding stately hero.
International competition in a year.
She was a good enough reason for a party...
(well, you couldn't keep up on a hard track mile)
while she ran a perfect circle.
And she wore a perfect smile
in Budapest... hot night in Budapest.
 
We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium...
dusting off the mandolins and checking on the gear.
She was helping out at the back-stage...
stopping hearts and chilling beer.
Yes, and her legs went on for ever.
Like staring up at infinity
through a wisp of cotton panty
along a skin of satin sea.
Hot night in Budapest.
 
You could cut the heat, peel it back with the wrong side of a knife.
Feel it blowing from the sidefills. Feel like you were playing for your life
(if not the money).
Hot night in Budapest.
 
She bent down to fill the ice box
and stuffed some more warm white wine in
like some weird unearthly vision
wearing only T-shirt, pants and skin.
You know, it rippled, just a hint of muscle.
But the boys and me were heading west
so we left her to the late crew
and a hot night in Budapest.
It was a hot night in Budapest.
 
She didn't speak much English language...
(she didn't speak much anyway).
She wouldn't make love, but she could make good sandwich
and she poured sweet wine before we played.
 
Hey, Budapest, cha, cha, cha. Let's watch her now.
 
I thought I saw her at the late night restaurant.
She would have sent blue shivers down the wall.
But she didn't grace our table.
In fact, she wasn't there at all.
Yes, and her legs went on forever.
Like staring up at infinity.
Her heart was spinning to the west-lands
and she didn't care to be
that night in Budapest.
Hot night in Budapest.
 
03.08.2017

Living in the Past

Happy and I'm smiling
Walk a mile to drink your water
You know I'd love to love you
And above you there's no other
 
We'll go walking out
While others shout of war's disaster
Oh, we won't give in
Let's go living in the past
 
Once I used to join in
Every boy and girl was my friend
Now there's revolution, but they don't know
What they're fighting
 
Let us close our eyes
Outside their lives go on much faster
Oh, we won't give in
We'll keep living in the past
 
30.07.2017

A Christmas Song

Once in Royal David's City
Stood a lonely cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her baby.
You'd do well to remember the things he later said.
 
When you're stuffing yourselves at the Christmas parties,
You'll laugh when I tell you to take a running jump.
You're missing the point I'm sure does not need making
The Christmas spirit is not what you drink.
 
So how can you laugh when your own mother's hungry,
And how can you smile when the reasons for smiling are wrong?
And if I just messed up your thoughtless pleasures,
Remember, if you wish, this is just a Christmas song.
 
(Hey! Santa! Pass us that bottle, will you?)
 
21.05.2017

Crossfire

Spring light in a hazy May And a man with a gun at the door. Someone's crawling on the roof above All the media here for the show. I've been waiting for our friends to come Like spiders down ropes to free-fall A thirty round clip for a visiting card - Admit one to the embassy ball. Caught in the crossfire on Princes Gate Avenue, In go the windows and out go the lights. Call me a doctor. Fetch me a policeman. I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight I'm just a soul with an innocent face A regular boy dressed in blue, Conducting myself in a proper way As befitting the job that I do. They came down on me like a ton of bricks, Swept off my feet, knocked about. There's nothing for it but to sit and wait For the hard men to get me out. Caught in the crossfire on Princes Gate Avenue, In go the windows and out go the lights. Call me a doctor. Fetch me a policeman. I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight. Calm reason floats from the street below, And the slow fuse burns through the night. Everyone's tried to talk it through, But they can't seem to get the deal right. Somewhere there are Brownings in a two-hand hold, Cocked and locked, one up the spout. There's nothing for it but to sit and wait For the hard men to get me out. Caught in the crossfire on Princes Gate Avenue, In go the windows and out go the lights. Call me a doctor. Fetch me a policeman. I'm down on the floor in one hell of a fight. 
21.05.2017

Black Sunday

Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday With freezing rains melting and no trains running And sad eyes passing in windows flimsy And my seat rocking from legs not quite matching, Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching, Black Sunday falls one day too soon. The taxi that takes me will be moving so quickly, My suitcases simply too full for the closing Of pants, shirts and kisses all packed in a hurry, Two best-selling paperbacks chosen at random, No sign of sales persons to whom I might hand them, Black Sunday falls one day too soon. And down at the airport are probably waiting A few thousand passengers, overbooked seating, Time long suspended in transit lounge traumas, Connections broken and Special Branch watching, Conspicuously standing in holiday clothing, Black Sunday falls one day too soon. Pick up my feet and kick off my lethargy, Down to the gate with the old mood upon me, Get out and chase the small immortality Born in the minute of my next returning, Impatient feet tapping and cigarette burning, Homecoming one day too soon. Back at the house there's a gray sky a-tumbling, Milk bottles piling on door steps a-crumbling, Curtains all drawn and cold water plumbing, Notepaper scribbles I read unbelieving, Saying how sorry, how sad was the leaving One day too soon. Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday With freezing rains melting and no trains running And sad eyes passing in windows flimsy And my seat rocking from legs not quite matching, Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching, Black Sunday fell one day too soon. 
21.05.2017

Requiem

Well, I saw a bird today Flying from a bush, And the wind blew it away. And the black-eyed mother sun Scorched the butterfly at play, Velvet veined. I saw it burn. With a wintry storm-blown sigh, A silver cloud blew right on by. And, taking in the morning, I sang O, Requiem. Well, my lady told me: 'Stay.' I looked aside and walked away Along the Strand. But I didn't say a word, As the train time-table blurred Close behind the taxi stand. Saw her face in the tear-drop black cab window, Fading into the traffic, - watched her go, And taking in the morning, heard myself singing: O, Requiem, Here I go again. It's the same old story. Well, I saw a bird today I looked aside and walked away Along the Strand. 
21.05.2017

Beastie

From early days of infancy, through trembling years of youth, Long murky middle-age and final hours long in the tooth, He is the hundred names of terror, creature you love the least. Picture his name before you and exorcise the beast. He roved up and down through history spectre with tales to tell. In the darkness when the campfire's dead to each his private hell. If you look behind your shoulder as you feel his eyes to feast, You can witness now the everchanging nature of the beast. Beastie! Beastie! Beastie! Beastie! If you wear a warmer sporran, you can keep the foe at bay. You can pop those pills and visit some psychiatrist who'll say There's nothing I can do for you, everywhere's a danger zone. I'd love to help get rid of it, but I've got one of my own. Beastie! There's a beast upon my shoulder (Beastie!) and a fiend upon my back (Beastie!). Feel his burning breath a heaving (Beastie!), smoke oozing from his stack. And he moves beneath the covers (Beastie!) or he lies below the bed (Beastie!). He's the beast upon your shoulder (Beastie!). He's the price upon your head. He's the lonely fear of dying, and for some, of living too. He's your private nightmare pricking. He'd just love to turn the screw. So stand as one defiant yes, and let your voices swell. Stare that beastie in the face and really give him hell. Beastie! There's a beast upon my shoulder (Beastie!) and a fiend upon my back (Beastie!). Feel his burning breath a heaving (Beastie!), smoke oozing from his stack (Beastie!). And he moves beneath the covers (Beastie!) or he lies below the bed (Beastie!). He's the beast upon your shoulder (Beastie!). He's the price upon your head. Look out!.. Look ou!.. 
18.05.2017

Thick As A Brick (Part I & II)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PART I~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Really don't mind if you sit this one out. My words but a whisper your deafness a SHOUT. I may make you feel but I can't make you think. Your sperm's in the gutter your love's in the sink. So you ride yourselves over the fields and you make all your animal deals and your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick. And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in the tidal destruction the moral melee. The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers the newfangled way. But your new shoes are worn at the heels and your suntan does rapidly peel and your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick. And the love that I feel is so far away: I'm a bad dream that I just had today and you shake your head and say it's a shame. Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth. Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth. Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song. See there! A son is born and we pronounce him fit to fight. There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night. We'll make a man of him, put him to trade teach him to play Monopoly and how to sing in the rain. The Poet and the Painter casting shadows on the water as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea. The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed. The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling but the master of the house is far away. The horses stamping, their warm breath clouding in the sharp and frosty morning of the day. And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword. And the youngest of the family is moving with authority. Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside. The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea: the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need. The young men of the household have all gone into service and are not to be expected for a year. The innocent young master - thoughts moving ever faster - has formed the plan to change the man he seems. And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword. And the oldest of the family is moving with authority. Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run. What do you do when the old man's gone - do you want to be him? And your real self sings the song. Do you want to free him? No one to help you get up steam and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam. LATER. I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways. My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed. So come on all you criminals! I've got to put you straight just like I did with my old man twenty years too late. Your bread and water's going cold. Your hair is too short and neat. I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me. You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone, you meet the stares, you're unaware that your doings aren't done. And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be. But how are we supposed to see where we should run? I see you shuffle in the courtroom with your rings upon your fingers and your downy little sidies and your silver-buckle shoes. Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comic-paper idol who lets you bend the rules. So! Come on ye childhood heroes! Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books your super crooks and show us all the way. Well! Make your will and testament. Won't you? Join your local government. We'll have Superman for president let Robin save the day. You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time. The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line. And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars. And you wonder who to call on. So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday? And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though? They're all resting down in Cornwall writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PART II~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LATER. See there! A man born and we pronounce him fit for peace. There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease. We'll take the child from him put it to the test teach it to be a wise man how to fool the rest. QUOTE We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional God is an overwhelming responsibility we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons cats are on the upgrade upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac. LATER In the clear white circles of morning wonder, I take my place with the lord of the hills. And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neat little rows) sporting canvas frills. With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention, while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen. Saying: 'How's your granny?' and good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win. The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn) lie cradled in the seagull's call. And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall. The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun, and signal for the crack of dawn. Light the sun. Light the sun. Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day! The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun. Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one. Do you believe in the day? The fading hero has returned to the night and fully pregnant with the day, wise men endorse the poet's sight. Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day! Let me tell you the tales of your life of your love and the cut of the knife the tireless oppression, the wisdom instilled the desire to kill or be killed. Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by. The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red while the fool toasts his god in the sky. So come all ye young men who are building castles! Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. Mark the precise nature of your fear. Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed with the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise and from the pan under your bed. Let me make you a present of song as the wise man breaks wind and is gone while the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and the nursery rhyme winds along. So! Come all ye young men who are building castles! Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. Mark the precise nature of your fear. See! The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you and the hour of judgement draweth near. Would you be the fool stood in his suit of armour or the wiser man who rushes clear. So! Come on ye childhood heroes! Won't your rise up from the pages of your comic-books your super-crooks and show us all the way. Well! Make your will and testament. Won't you? Join your local government. We'll have Superman for president let Robin save the day. So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday? And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through? They're all resting down in Cornwall writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual OF COURSE So you ride yourselves over the fields and you make all your animal deals and your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick. 
24.04.2017

Jack-in-ihe-Green

Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green? With his long tail hanging down. He quietly sits under every tree In the folds of his velvet gown. He drinks from the empty acorn cup The dew that dawn sweetly bestows. And taps his cane upon the ground Signals the snowdrops it's time to grow. It's no fun being Jack-In-The-Green, No place to dance, no time for song. He wears the colours of the summer soldier, Carries the green flag all the winter long. Jack, do you never sleep, Does the green still run deep in your heart? Or will these changing times, Motorways, powerlines keep us apart? Well, I don't think so, I saw some grass growing through the pavements today. The rowan, the oak and the holly tree Are the charges left for you to groom. Each blade of grass whispers Jack-In-The-Green. Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night. And we are the berries on the holly tree. Oh, the mistlethrush is coming. Jack, put out the light. 
24.04.2017

Ring Out Solstice Bells

Now is the solstice of the year. Winter is the glad song that you hear. Seven maids move in seven time, Have the lads up ready in a line. Ring out these bells, Ring out, ring solstice bells, Ring solstice bells. Join together 'neath the mistletoe, By the holy oak whereon it grows Seven druids dance in seven time, Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming. Ring out these bells, Ring out, ring solstice bells, Ring solstice bells. Ring out, ring out the solstice bells, Ring out, ring out the solstice bells. Praise be to the distant sister sun, Joyful as the silver planets run. Seven maids move in seven time, Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming. Ring out these bells, Ring out, ring solstice bells, Ring solstice bells, Ring on, ring out... Ring on, ring out... Ring on, ring out... Ring on, ring out... 
24.04.2017

Rover

I chase your every footstep And I follow every whim. When you call the tune I'm ready To strike up the battle hymn. My lady of the meadows, My comber of the beach. You've thrown the stick for your dog's trick, But it's floating out of reach. The long road is a rainbow, And the pot of gold lies there. So slip the chain and I'm off again, You'll find me everywhere, 'Cause I'm a Rover. As the robin craves the summer To hide his smock of red, I need the pillow of your hair In which to hide my head. I'm simple in my sadness, Resourceful in remorse. Then I'm down straining at the lead, Holding on a windward course. The long road is a rainbow, And the pot of gold lies there. So slip the chain and I'm off again, You'll find me everywhere, 'Cause I'm a Rover. Strip me from the bundle Of balloons at every fair: Colourful and carefree, Designed to make you stare. But I'm lost and I'm losing The thread that holds me down. And I'm up, hot and rising In the lights of every town. The long road is a rainbow, And the pot of gold lies there. So slip the chain and I'm off again, You'll find me everywhere, 'Cause I'm a Rover. 
24.04.2017

Journeyman

Spine-tingling railway sleepers Sleepy houses lying four-square and firm. Orange beams divide the darkness Rumbling fit to turn the waking worm. Sliding through Victorian tunnels Where green moss oozes from the pores. Dull echoes from the wet embankments, Battlefield allotments, fresh open sores. In late night commuter madness Double-locked black briefcase on the floor, Like a faithful dog with master Sleeping in the draught beside the carriage door. To each Journeyman his own home-coming, Cold supper nearing with each station stop. Frosty flakes on empty platforms, Fireside slippers waiting. Flip. Flop. Journeyman night-tripping on the late fantastic, Too late to stop for tea at Gerard's Cross And hear the soft shoes on the footbridge shuffle As the wheels turn biting on the midnight frost. On the late commuter special Carriage lights that flicker, fade and die. Howling into hollow blackness Dusky diesel shudders in full cry. Down redundant morning papers, Abandon crosswords with a cough. Stationmaster in his wisdom Told the guard to turn the heating off. Journeyman night-tripping on the late fantastic, Too late to stop for tea at Gerard's Cross And hear the soft shoes on the footbridge shuffle As the wheels turn biting on the midnight frost. 
08.03.2017

Life Is A Long Song

When you're falling awake
And you take stock of the new day
And you hear your voice croak
As you choke on what you need to say,
Well, don't you fret, don't you fear,
I will give you good cheer.

Life's a long song,
Life's a long song,
Life's a long song.
If you wait then your plate I will fill.

As the verses unfold and your soul
Suffers the long day,
And the twelve o'clock gloom
Spins the room, you struggle on your way,
Well, don't you sigh, don't you cry,
Lick the dust from your eye.

Life's a long song,
Life's a long song,
Life's a long song.
We'll meet in the sweet light of dawn.

As the Baker Street train spills your pain
All over your new dress,
And the symphony sounds underground,
Puts you under duress,
Well, don't you squeal as the heel
Grinds you under the wheels.

Life's a long song,
Life's a long song,
Life's a long song,
But the tune ends too soon for us all.

08.03.2017

Wicked Windows

I review my past through wicked windows
Framed in silver
And hung in toughened glass, upon my face,
Around and over.
Now and then: memories of men who loved me.
No stolen kiss - could match their march on hot coals for me.
I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow.
Caught up in circumstance.
Harsh truth for history to mellow.
Through my eyes: loyalties and obligation
magnified.
Obedience: the better fellow.

Better not remember me.
Don't miss my passing.
Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep.
We never quite vanish.
No wet soft surrender.
Still waiting: bad blood running in close families.
I laughed like any child
Although you might find that strange
And Christmas was my favourite holiday.

Christmas was my favourite holiday.

I am not alone in seeing the world through wicked windows
While others hide likewise behind this vulnerable squinting.
It's in the stare: it's in the silent scrutinizing.
Strip you bare: I offer you no more disguising.

Better not remember me.
Don't miss my passing.
Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep.
We never quite vanish.
No wet soft surrender.
Same bad blood running in new families.

05.03.2017

Acres Wild

I'll make love to you
In all good places
Under black mountains
In open spaces.
By deep brown rivers
That slither darkly
Through far marches
Where the blue hare races.

Come with me to the Winged Isle,
Northern father's western child.
Where the dance of ages is playing still
Through far marches of acres wild.

I'll make love to you
In narrow side streets
With shuttered windows,
And crumbling chimneys.

Come with me to the weary town
Discos silent under tiles
That slide from rooftops, scatter softly
On concrete marches of acres wild.

By red bricks pointed
With cement fingers
Flaking damply
From sagging shoulders.

Come with me to the Winged Isle,
Northern father's western child.
Where the dance of ages is playing still
Through far marches of acres wild.

04.03.2017

Sossity You're A Woman

Hello, you straight-laced lady
Dressed in white but your shoes aren't clean
Painted them up with polish
In the hope we can't see where you've been

The smiling face that you've worn
To greet me rising at morning
Sent me out to work for my score
Please me and say what it's for

Give me the straight-laced promise
And not the pathetic lie
Tie me down with your ribbons
And sulk when I ask you why

Your Sunday paper voice cries
Demanding truths I deny
The bitter-sweet kiss you pretended
Is offered, our affair mended

Sossity, you're a woman
Society, you're a woman

All of the tears you're wasting
Are for yourself and not for me
It's sad to know you're aging
Sadder still to admit I'm free

Your immature physical toy
Has grown too young to enjoy
At last your straight-laced agreement
Woman, you were too old for me

Sossity, you're a woman
Society, you're a woman

04.03.2017

Wond'ring Aloud

Wondering aloud
How we feel today.
Last night sipped the sunset
My hand in her hair.
We are our own saviours
As we start both our hearts beating life
Into each other

Wondering aloud
Will the years treat us well.
As she floats in the kitchen,
I'm tasting the smell
Of toast as the butter runs.
Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed,
And I shake my head
And it's only the giving
That makes you what you are.

04.03.2017

Up to Me

Take you to the cinema
And leave you in a Wimpy Bar.
You tell me that we've gone too far,
Come running up to me.

Make the scene at Cousin Jack's,
Leave him to put the bottles back,
Mends his glasses that I cracked.
Well, that's one up to me.

Buy a silver cloud to ride,
Pack the tennis club inside,
Trouser cuffs hung far too wide,
Well, it was up to me.

Tire's down on your bicycle,
Your nose feels like an icicle,
The yellow fingered smoky girl
Is looking up to me.

Well, I'm a common working man
With a half of bitter, bread and jam,
And if it pleases me I'll put one on you man
When the copper fades away.

The rainy season comes to pass,
The day-glo pirate sinks at last.
And if I laughed a bit too fast,
Well, it was up to me.

Take you to the cinema
And leave you in a Wimpy Bar.
You tell me that we've gone too far,
Come running up to me.

04.03.2017

A New Day Yesterday

My first and last time with you
And we had some fun.
Went walking through the trees, yeah!
And then I kissed you once.
Oh, I want to see you soon
But I wonder how.
It was a new day yesterday,
But it's an old day now.

Spent a long time looking
For a game to play.
My luck should be so bad now
To turn out this way.
Oh, I had to leave today
Just when I thought I'd found you.
It was a new day yesterday,
But it's an old day now.

04.03.2017

Nothing Is Easy

Nothing is easy,
Though time gets you worrying,
My friend, it's OK.
Just take your life easy
And stop all that hurrying,
Be happy my way.
When tension starts mounting
And you've lost count of the pennies you've missed,
Just try hard
And see why they're not worrying me,
They're last on my list.

Nothing's easy...

Nothing is easy,
You'll find that the squeeze
Won't turn out so bad
Your fingers may freeze,
Worse things happen at sea,
There's good times to be had.
So if you're alone
And you're down to the bone,
Just give us a play.
You'll smile in a while
And discover that I'll get you happy my way.

Nothing's easy...

04.03.2017

Bungle In The Jungle

Walking through forests of palm tree apartments
Scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents
Down by the waterhole
Drunk every Friday
Eating their nuts
Saving their raisins for Sunday.
Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows,
They're fast but they're lazy, and sleep in green meadows.

Let's bungle in the jungle,
Well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
But I'm a snake if we disagree.

Just say a word and the boys will be right there:
With claws at your back to send a chill through the night air.
Is it so frightening to have me at your shoulder?
Thunder and lightning couldn't be bolder.
I'll write on your tombstone: 'I thank you for dinner.''
This game that we animals play is a winner.

Let's bungle in the jungle,
Well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
But I'm a snake if we disagree.

The rivers are full of crocodile nasties
And He who made kittens put snakes in the grass.
He's a lover of life but a player of pawns
Yes, the King on His sunset lies waiting for dawn
To light up His Jungle
As play is resumed.
The monkeys seem willing to strike up the tune.

Let's bungle in the jungle,
Well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
But I'm a snake if we disagree.
(x3)

04.03.2017

Songs From The Wood

Let me bring you songs from the wood:
To make you feel much better than you could know.
Dust you down from tip to toe.
Show you how the garden grows.

Hold you steady as you go.
Join the chorus if you can:
It'll make of you an honest man.
Let me bring you love from the field:

Poppies red and roses filled with summer rain.
To heal the wound and still the pain,
That threatens again and again,
As you drag down every lover's lane.

Life's long celebration's here.
I'll toast you all in penny cheer.
Let me bring you all things refined:
Galliards and lute songs served in chilling ale.

Greetings well met fellow, hail!
I am the wind to fill your sail.
I am the cross to take your nail:
A singer of these ageless times,

With kitchen prose and gutter rhymes.
Songs from the wood make you feel much better.

04.03.2017

WarChild

I'll take you down to that bright city mile
There to powder your sweet face and paint on a smile,
That will show all of the pleasures and none of the pain,
When you join my explosion and play with my games.
WarChild dance the days, and dance the nights away.
WarChild dance the days, and dance the nights away.

No unconditional surrender, no armistice day,
Each night I'll die in my contentment and lie in your grave. While you bring me water and I give you wine.
Let me dance in your tea-cup and you shall swim in mine.
WarChild dance the days, and dance the nights away.

Open your windows and I'll walk through your doors.
Let me live in your country let me sleep by your shores.

WarChild dance the days, and dance the nights away.
WarChild dance the days, and dance the nights away.
WarChild dance the days, and dance the nights away.
WarChild dance the days, and dance the nights away.

03.03.2017

Nothing to Say

Everyday there's someone asking 'What is there to do?'
Should I love or should I fight, is it all the same to you?
No, I say I have the answer proven to be true,
But if I were to share it with you, you would stand to gain and I to lose.

Oh, I couldn't bear it so I've got nothing to say.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to say.

Every morning pressure forming all around my eyes.
Ceilings crash, the walls collapse, broken by the lies.
That your misfortune brought upon us and I won't disguise them.
So don't ask me will I explain, I won't even begin to tell you why.

No, just because I have a name, well, I've got nothing to say.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to say.

Climb a tower of freedom, paint your own deceiving sign.
It's not my power to criticize or to ask you to be blind,
To your own pressing problem and the hate you must unwind.
And ask of me no answer there is none that I could give you wouldn't find.

I went your way ten years ago and I've got nothing to say.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to say.

03.03.2017

My God

People, what have you done?
Locked him in his golden cage, golden cage,
Made him bend to your religion
Him resurrected from the grave, from the grave.

He is the God of nothing,
If that's all that you can see.
You are the God of everything,
He's inside you and me.

So lean upon him gently
And don't call on him to save you
From your social graces
And the sins you used to waive, you used to waive.

The bloody church of England
In chains of history
Requests your earthly presence
At the vicarage for tea.

And the graven image you know who
With his plastic crucifix, he's got him fixed,
Confuses me as to who and where and why?
As to how he gets his kicks, he gets his kicks.

Confessing to the endless sin,
The endless whining sounds,
You'll be praying till next Thursday
To all the gods that you can count.

03.03.2017

Slipstream

Well, the lush separation enfolds you
And the products of wealth,
Push you along on the bow wave,
Of the spiritless, undying selves.

And you press on God's waiter your last dime
As he hands you the bill,
And you spin in the slipstream, timeless, unreasoning,
Paddle right out of the mess and you paddle right out of the mess...