Exploding international,
The scenes, the sounds,
And famously the feeling,
That you can be found,
While tearing off another page,
Of loose chains, outrage,
It's another perfect day,
Until the night shows.
Exploding international,
The winded hound,
The sky above was bleak with rings,
Of smoke,
And clouds,
And hanging on oblivion,
End of conscience
"Who's this?
Was there anything amiss?"
As far as you know,
As far as you know.
Was it all for swinging you around?
Exploding international,
The sun decides,
The moments you are viewing through a beam,
Of light,
Propelling through the golden age,
We crash land the first page,
Only from new worlds of stage,
Into the front rows,
Into the front rows.
And all for swinging you around,
All for swinging you around.
And off your feet,
Oh, clearing bounds,
Spinning 'round.
We're twisting incognito,
With no time, can't talk,
Can't tell if this is fantasy,
Or conscious shock,
Our remnants of a golden age,
The good news unclaimed,
Oh what would the molder say,
Beneath the light show,
Beneath the light show.
Oh, for swinging you around.
---
The sound of God is the screech of tyres,
Lights and bags and bolts and wires,
Strength from your might,
Discs don't rewind,
Still to come.
The screech of tyres is the sound of God,
The electric version,
Power has blown
And spread through your sons,
Just as long as it,
Sounds like...
Streaming,
In love with the magnet song.
Strung together like pagan lights,
Twelve thousand seconds of history ignite,
Wait for a moment,
You went off the track,
Welcome back.
Our electric version calls,
You alone create the fall,
Spectrum of light,
So what could go wrong?
Just as long as it,
Sounds like..
Dreaming,
In love with the magnet song.
The car shall dent,
The crowd goes wild,
Make believe you are an only child,
Here are your clothes,
Please put them on,
Still to come.
Hip hooray,
The faith in sparks,
The electric version harks,
Back to the day when there was no wrong,
Just as long as it,
Sounds like...
Screaming,
Enough of the magnet,
Screaming,
Enough of the magnet,
Screaming,
Enough of the magnet song..
Friday, December 26, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday Letters
A long long time ago,
I can still remember,
How that musing used to make me smile,
And I knew if I had my chance,
That I would make those people glance,
And maybe they'll be happy for awhile,
But February made me shiver,
With every paper I deliver,
Bad news on the doorstep,
I couldn't take one more step.
I can't remember if I cried,
When I read about his widowed bride,
Something touched me deep inside,
The day,
The musing,
Died.
So why why, did the weather went dry,
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry,
Them good old boys,
Were being frisky,
And ripe,
Singing this will be the day that I die,
This will be the day that I die.
Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
Ain't it vital
I tell you so.
Hun, do you believe in rock & roll,
Cause music, can't save your model soul,
And can you teach me how to drive,
Like a pro.
Babe, I know that you are getting slim,
Cause I saw you standing in the gym,
You kicked off them old shoes,
And you wore them strapped up and new,
I was a lonely teenage hockey puck,
Worked the small gas station and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day,
The musing died.
I started thinking.
Why why why, when the weather was dry,
Joined the Navy for my daddy,
But my daddy was high,
Them good old boys,
Stopped drinking whisky,
And rhymed,
And singing this will be the day that I die,
This will be the day that I die.
Now for ten years,
We've been on our own,
As moss rolls fat on a rolling stone,
But,
That's not how it turned out to be.
When the jester ran,
For the king and queen,
And the coat you borrowed from the keen,
And the choice that came,
On you and me.
And while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his party crown,
The courtroom was adjourned,
No verdict was returned.
And while felons read a book on Mars,
The puppet studied with the stars,
And we sang dirges in the dark,
The day,
The musing died.
We'd be singing,
Lie lie, Miss American High,
Chose your hubby from your mummy,
But your mummy ain't fine,
And good old boys,
Were watching TV and whined,
Thinking this will be the day that I try,
This will be the day that I try.
Helped her, dealt her,
In a summer sweater,
Birds flew off,
From a fallout shelter,
Aging tiles,
And brocade glass.
And land a foul out on the grass,
The players tried for a risky pass,
With the jester on the sidelines,
In a cast.
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume,
While speakers played a classic tune,
We all got into the trance,
But we never liked to dance,
Thus the lawyers try to take the field,
The marching man refuse to yield,
Do you recall what was revealed,
The day,
The musing died
We started swinging,
Bye bye, mist and nights full of sky,
Shove my baby to a lady,
But the lady was mine,
Them bad old boys,
Were faking grieving,
And pined,
This will be the day that I shine,
This will be the day, I shine.
And there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space,
With no time left,
'Cept for our face.
So come on, Back-Is-Nimble,
Track-Field-Quick,
Flare flash burned off the candlestick,
Ain't fire the devil's only friend.
Oh, and as I watch the marble stage,
My hands were clenched in fists of rage,
No angel here can tell,
Can make this sorta spell.
And as the plane climbs high,
Into the night,
To light the sacrificial right,
I saw Satan laughing with delight,
The day,
The musing died.
He was singing,
Why, why, why, are you people so blind,
All so savvy yet so daffy,
And the bevy was tight,
Them good old boys,
Would come home early
At ninine,
Singing,
Nigh are still the days that I cry,
This would be the day that I die.
I met a girl who painted hues,
And I asked her if I paid my dues,
She just smiled,
And flew away.
I locked up all my sacred doors,
Where the musing played again once more,
But the fan there sneered the notion
Wouldn't fade.
And in the streets,
The children streamed,
The dove could cry,
In a poet's dream,
But not a word was spoken,
The merged hell then, now broken.
And the free men turned into a ghost,
Of mother, nuns and morning toast,
They've all set out for the most,
The day,
The musing...
Died.
I can still remember,
How that musing used to make me smile,
And I knew if I had my chance,
That I would make those people glance,
And maybe they'll be happy for awhile,
But February made me shiver,
With every paper I deliver,
Bad news on the doorstep,
I couldn't take one more step.
I can't remember if I cried,
When I read about his widowed bride,
Something touched me deep inside,
The day,
The musing,
Died.
So why why, did the weather went dry,
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry,
Them good old boys,
Were being frisky,
And ripe,
Singing this will be the day that I die,
This will be the day that I die.
Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
Ain't it vital
I tell you so.
Hun, do you believe in rock & roll,
Cause music, can't save your model soul,
And can you teach me how to drive,
Like a pro.
Babe, I know that you are getting slim,
Cause I saw you standing in the gym,
You kicked off them old shoes,
And you wore them strapped up and new,
I was a lonely teenage hockey puck,
Worked the small gas station and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck,
The day,
The musing died.
I started thinking.
Why why why, when the weather was dry,
Joined the Navy for my daddy,
But my daddy was high,
Them good old boys,
Stopped drinking whisky,
And rhymed,
And singing this will be the day that I die,
This will be the day that I die.
Now for ten years,
We've been on our own,
As moss rolls fat on a rolling stone,
But,
That's not how it turned out to be.
When the jester ran,
For the king and queen,
And the coat you borrowed from the keen,
And the choice that came,
On you and me.
And while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his party crown,
The courtroom was adjourned,
No verdict was returned.
And while felons read a book on Mars,
The puppet studied with the stars,
And we sang dirges in the dark,
The day,
The musing died.
We'd be singing,
Lie lie, Miss American High,
Chose your hubby from your mummy,
But your mummy ain't fine,
And good old boys,
Were watching TV and whined,
Thinking this will be the day that I try,
This will be the day that I try.
Helped her, dealt her,
In a summer sweater,
Birds flew off,
From a fallout shelter,
Aging tiles,
And brocade glass.
And land a foul out on the grass,
The players tried for a risky pass,
With the jester on the sidelines,
In a cast.
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume,
While speakers played a classic tune,
We all got into the trance,
But we never liked to dance,
Thus the lawyers try to take the field,
The marching man refuse to yield,
Do you recall what was revealed,
The day,
The musing died
We started swinging,
Bye bye, mist and nights full of sky,
Shove my baby to a lady,
But the lady was mine,
Them bad old boys,
Were faking grieving,
And pined,
This will be the day that I shine,
This will be the day, I shine.
And there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space,
With no time left,
'Cept for our face.
So come on, Back-Is-Nimble,
Track-Field-Quick,
Flare flash burned off the candlestick,
Ain't fire the devil's only friend.
Oh, and as I watch the marble stage,
My hands were clenched in fists of rage,
No angel here can tell,
Can make this sorta spell.
And as the plane climbs high,
Into the night,
To light the sacrificial right,
I saw Satan laughing with delight,
The day,
The musing died.
He was singing,
Why, why, why, are you people so blind,
All so savvy yet so daffy,
And the bevy was tight,
Them good old boys,
Would come home early
At ninine,
Singing,
Nigh are still the days that I cry,
This would be the day that I die.
I met a girl who painted hues,
And I asked her if I paid my dues,
She just smiled,
And flew away.
I locked up all my sacred doors,
Where the musing played again once more,
But the fan there sneered the notion
Wouldn't fade.
And in the streets,
The children streamed,
The dove could cry,
In a poet's dream,
But not a word was spoken,
The merged hell then, now broken.
And the free men turned into a ghost,
Of mother, nuns and morning toast,
They've all set out for the most,
The day,
The musing...
Died.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
My Protheusly Proper Jane
Elope with me, Miss Private,
And we'll sail around the world,
I will be your Magellan,
And you my landlocked girl,
How many nights of talking in hotel rooms,
Can you take,
How many nights of limping around,
On pagan holidays,
Oh elope with me in private,
And we'll set something ablaze,
A trail for the devil to erase.
Some friends ceased on calling us,
They joust and net the play,
The hearts and rods might catch you,
Are you straight or are you gay,
The hungabouts at stadiums,
Whose got no place to stay,
We hung about the tender lawn,
And tenderly you tell,
About the saddest book you ever read,
It always makes you cry,
The statues cry,
Until a woolly May.
I love you,
I've a drowning grip,
On your adoring face,
I love you,
My responsibility has found a place,
Beside you were once a morning,
Superseded witty words,
Come wave upon me,
From your family,
I don't find absurd
"You'll take care of her,
I know it,
You would do a better job"
Maybe,
But not what you deserve.
Elope with me, Miss Private,
And we'll drink ourselves awake,
We'll rob the coffee houses,
And award certificates,
The Navy Seal,
To keep the feel,
Of 1960's stars.
We'll call men on the decor,
And we'll help the passing cars,
When the desk of work is over,
We'll continue the debate,
In that borrowed bedroom,
Virginal and spare.
They fetch her round at 3.18,
They fetch her everyday,
The hitcher puts religion first,
And rest on holidays,
He goes into his riddles,
And lies prostrate on the floor,
He knows the drink,
Affects his speed,
His praying for a door,
Way back into the life he wants,
Without confession on the bench,
Life outside the iron,
Is a drench.
I wish that you were here with me,
To pass the dull weekend,
I know he couldn't come to love,
My heroine pretend,
A lady stepping from a song,
We love until this day,
She settled on a photograph,
Like Toulouse and his dame,
The sun upon the riff in winter,
Will draw you out like a flower,
I'll meet you at the statue in an hour.
I'll meet you at the statue in an hour...
And we'll sail around the world,
I will be your Magellan,
And you my landlocked girl,
How many nights of talking in hotel rooms,
Can you take,
How many nights of limping around,
On pagan holidays,
Oh elope with me in private,
And we'll set something ablaze,
A trail for the devil to erase.
Some friends ceased on calling us,
They joust and net the play,
The hearts and rods might catch you,
Are you straight or are you gay,
The hungabouts at stadiums,
Whose got no place to stay,
We hung about the tender lawn,
And tenderly you tell,
About the saddest book you ever read,
It always makes you cry,
The statues cry,
Until a woolly May.
I love you,
I've a drowning grip,
On your adoring face,
I love you,
My responsibility has found a place,
Beside you were once a morning,
Superseded witty words,
Come wave upon me,
From your family,
I don't find absurd
"You'll take care of her,
I know it,
You would do a better job"
Maybe,
But not what you deserve.
Elope with me, Miss Private,
And we'll drink ourselves awake,
We'll rob the coffee houses,
And award certificates,
The Navy Seal,
To keep the feel,
Of 1960's stars.
We'll call men on the decor,
And we'll help the passing cars,
When the desk of work is over,
We'll continue the debate,
In that borrowed bedroom,
Virginal and spare.
They fetch her round at 3.18,
They fetch her everyday,
The hitcher puts religion first,
And rest on holidays,
He goes into his riddles,
And lies prostrate on the floor,
He knows the drink,
Affects his speed,
His praying for a door,
Way back into the life he wants,
Without confession on the bench,
Life outside the iron,
Is a drench.
I wish that you were here with me,
To pass the dull weekend,
I know he couldn't come to love,
My heroine pretend,
A lady stepping from a song,
We love until this day,
She settled on a photograph,
Like Toulouse and his dame,
The sun upon the riff in winter,
Will draw you out like a flower,
I'll meet you at the statue in an hour.
I'll meet you at the statue in an hour...
Monday, December 1, 2008
Tokyo Running/The Secret Word Is
I'd like to see you,
I had a funny dream
And you were wearing funny shoes,
You were going to a dance,
You were dressed for the funk,
But you were too young to remember.
I'm happy for you,
But now I know this hurt,
Is boysenberry,
Too much to be bland,
I'm sitting in my empty shed,
I'm in my empty shed
And the door desist it's pounding,
Pounding,
Pounding.
Rather run to Tokyo,
And drive a geezer for the radio,
Watch a Sunday gang in hybrid whims,
Is there something wrong with me,
Or the guru?
Scary notion,
I'm loving every moment,
I was high from playing shows,
The loss of skin,
Into half clothes,
My trouble raised it's wobbly head,
Watching a filter now,
Was I hung in bed,
Or just at it again.
Did Jesus told thee,
To go out in every corner,
Like it's the last turn in the world,
So I'll take away one child,
You're the little lost sheep,
You need your Bo Peep,
Cause you hate the shepherd here, that's right?
Waking up in misery,
I see the wilderness for you and me,
Punctuated by philosophy,
I'm wondering how things could've been.
I'd like to see you,
But really I should stay awake,
And let you settle down,
I got no claims to your crown,
I had the boxer view,
Doesn't mean I love you,
Oh you know I loved you,
But it's over now.
And I was there for you,
When you were lonely,
I was there when you were fat,
I was there when you were sad,
There was the time and need,
I'm thinking,
Do I have to grin to get you by my side.
I'd rather sleep in barrios,
And try to glisten all my videos,
And watch the prancing man,
In hyper voodoo,
There's something wrong with me,
Or the house loo?
---
It was pretty bright,
Upon the death row bridge tonight,
I can see you into your window,
Although you're far away.
You were racing in a car,
Beside a boy you just don't know,
If he is a fool,
Like what you had in mind,
If he is a fool,
What you have in mind?
Changes on the cards,
But in time there will be hearts,
I would never deceive you,
We've never had the right.
You should never spare the poem,
You should never spare the tongue,
I wish I had two,
As I would follow,
I write the ending,
With sense and tomorrow.
I am a ceiling grand,
Just like you, a sitting man,
And I would wrap my arms around you,
Cause I know there will be fire.
We gotta fight to save our friends,
We didn't get wet,
We're still not dead,
Our aspiration,
All locked up in books,
Our innovations,
All hidden in looks.
Summer tasted off,
I am trying to get a feeling wrong,
To a city unfaithful,
I've been traveling abroad.
We gotta find our sea affair,
We couldn't get wet,
We didn't dare.
But the fantasy remains,
You better come back to earth again,
Our inspiration,
Guilty as crooks,
Our invocations,
Fortified rooks.
I had a funny dream
And you were wearing funny shoes,
You were going to a dance,
You were dressed for the funk,
But you were too young to remember.
I'm happy for you,
But now I know this hurt,
Is boysenberry,
Too much to be bland,
I'm sitting in my empty shed,
I'm in my empty shed
And the door desist it's pounding,
Pounding,
Pounding.
Rather run to Tokyo,
And drive a geezer for the radio,
Watch a Sunday gang in hybrid whims,
Is there something wrong with me,
Or the guru?
Scary notion,
I'm loving every moment,
I was high from playing shows,
The loss of skin,
Into half clothes,
My trouble raised it's wobbly head,
Watching a filter now,
Was I hung in bed,
Or just at it again.
Did Jesus told thee,
To go out in every corner,
Like it's the last turn in the world,
So I'll take away one child,
You're the little lost sheep,
You need your Bo Peep,
Cause you hate the shepherd here, that's right?
Waking up in misery,
I see the wilderness for you and me,
Punctuated by philosophy,
I'm wondering how things could've been.
I'd like to see you,
But really I should stay awake,
And let you settle down,
I got no claims to your crown,
I had the boxer view,
Doesn't mean I love you,
Oh you know I loved you,
But it's over now.
And I was there for you,
When you were lonely,
I was there when you were fat,
I was there when you were sad,
There was the time and need,
I'm thinking,
Do I have to grin to get you by my side.
I'd rather sleep in barrios,
And try to glisten all my videos,
And watch the prancing man,
In hyper voodoo,
There's something wrong with me,
Or the house loo?
---
It was pretty bright,
Upon the death row bridge tonight,
I can see you into your window,
Although you're far away.
You were racing in a car,
Beside a boy you just don't know,
If he is a fool,
Like what you had in mind,
If he is a fool,
What you have in mind?
Changes on the cards,
But in time there will be hearts,
I would never deceive you,
We've never had the right.
You should never spare the poem,
You should never spare the tongue,
I wish I had two,
As I would follow,
I write the ending,
With sense and tomorrow.
I am a ceiling grand,
Just like you, a sitting man,
And I would wrap my arms around you,
Cause I know there will be fire.
We gotta fight to save our friends,
We didn't get wet,
We're still not dead,
Our aspiration,
All locked up in books,
Our innovations,
All hidden in looks.
Summer tasted off,
I am trying to get a feeling wrong,
To a city unfaithful,
I've been traveling abroad.
We gotta find our sea affair,
We couldn't get wet,
We didn't dare.
But the fantasy remains,
You better come back to earth again,
Our inspiration,
Guilty as crooks,
Our invocations,
Fortified rooks.
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