teflon

 I won’t cry foul    I never was a victim    I play the hand that’s dealt me     and accept the consequences    so go ahead and cast your stones     no one is above criticism     but some bear other’s faults      jealous tongues spread bad news    and magnify the false     but I’ve broken no earthly law    save the laws of prudery      I sleep wherever I’m welcome     and reap whatever I sow     my critics only strengthen me     their inhibitions make me bold     my difference is a source of pride      I’m unaffected by the crowd    but if I walked a mile in their tight shoes      I might just hate me too      I’m a libertine by nature     I never followed rules     and I refuse to be held accountable by puritanical fools

morning glory

I’m tumbling out of bed      lit up like christmas day      swept up on the surging tide     of sexual energy     deep within our hearts   we long for ecstasy     a tornado of desperate happiness     that sweeps us off our feet    when did you last feel euphoric?    when was your moment of bliss?   teach me how to love you    show me what you need     because I loved you in the darkness    a secret in my soul     but now we’re meeting flesh to flesh     I’m losing self control

 

 

the son of heaven

some folk never know      well, you can’t say that of me     I knew exactly who I was     though others couldn’t see    just another working class chump     pretending to be free    so why should I play the fool    when I have things to say?      the cat has my tongue     and my flies are undone     maybe I’m better off this way      I’m uneasy with this silence      I prefer my electrical storms     I broke the root of my sorrow     with a well timed show of force     it amounts to sleight of hand       but I’m better for the change      since I placed the stars in orbit     and gave them all new names      the sun will rise and fall      to the rhythm of my heart     my love will be reflected     in a billion rays of light     now can you imagine that?     I’m so grateful to the spirit     for the fire that burns within    because I’m the son of heaven    delivered from human concerns     and absolved of worldly sin

thieves

the first theft was an apple       I hope it tasted sweet     that was a long time ago     now everyone’s a thief     I was glad to steal for you     and you were happy too     was that just a little extra gravy?     or something heavier still?    in hindsight was it wicked?     would you rather beg than steal?   is it a curse to have a conscience?     does your conscience bother you?    you reveal your state of mind  in everything you do     right and wrong     good and bad    the mirror in your heart    reflects the world you see    a cat might have to steal     just to make ends meet      you’ve got to put food on the table     and that shit don’t come cheap     each of us is a fragment of an imperfect world     heaven and earth are ten thousand things    but we are thieves and nothing else    here is the fruit of knowledge    stolen from the vine     if you would perfect your being    you must master your desires    or learn to think like a thief     and steal everything you can     whatever your dharma holds     you’ll come to understand     all roads lead to consciousness     it’s part of the master plan

 

the relations of production

the hand that gives     is the hand that takes     money is our god      make no mistake     they say money talks     and money makes sense    but the game is rigged at our expense     we’re taking names     and talking shit     laying blame     and sick of it     our parasitic system      has left us helpless and alone      but the rich will always prosper      their progress is well known      they tell me this is natural     the rich are rich      the poor are poor    it’s just the way it is      the dynamics of the system defy analysis    but our labour is the price     for the little we can save     we’ll labour for our living    we’ll labour to the grave      we’ll grease the wheels of industry      for our paltry weekly wage

    

let me be

 day breaks bleak and hard    my head is fit to burst     I hate waking up in the cells     I’m nobody’s hero now      I can’t account for myself      but I know that I’m still beautiful      in a ragamuffin way    I listen to my heart    I let it speak for me      there’s no mistake in nature     and there’s no mistaking me      I’ve broken many laws      in my efforts to break free     so lock me up again     throw away the key    break me on the wheel     or fuck off and let me be

fraternity

 after forty days and nights    I’ve come in from the wilderness      to make my bed where the wild things sleep   naked and alone    but I can bear the load    coz in my story I am free     but makes me so certain?    what does freedom mean to me?   well, I’m not free enough     and I’m not satisfied    where’s the peace of mind  I was guaranteed     when I cut the cords that bind?   I cultivated a little space    on the edge of society   coz I’ve lost faith in people    as they’ve lost track of me     I’m something of a misanthrope     it cannot be denied       it was learn to love my neighbour    or find a place to hide     

Las Vegas

my stones ache in the morning      but that’s par for the course    I’m doing jack shit     and I almost regret it      coz you can’t retrieve lost time     and that don’t buy no sleep     I could use some sleep     I’ve been dredging the low end     for forty days and nights      I could tell it like it is    but I would sound insane     I bet my wages on a lightning strike    but I struck out once again    I’m eating crow for breakfast    but this is chicken town        I need to find a new game      before the landlord comes around     so I’m  heading to Las Vegas     to get my business fixed      pump me a few while I wait for the bus    this old dog is learning new tricks

 

cities on fire

cities on fire 

in the republic of sorrows      

cities on fire   

in the land of the free

cities on fire  

where the dark horse rises      

cities on fire

far as the eye can see

we’re talking London and Chicago

we’re talking Memphis Tennessee

I got gasoline in the car

take a ride with me

cities on fire

across the planet

cities on fire

it’s our destiny

 

tyrannised

I guess I’ll tend to my own troubles      and you can tend to yours     don’t talk to me about feelings    I don’t want to talk about my feelings      I want to scream and shout about my feelings      I want to roll them all up into one vicious ball and ram it down your throat      so you can scream about it too    we could scream our skeletons loose    we could scream ourselves empty        we could scream until we are free

your sympathy offends me         I’ll have none of that       I’m pinned up on a meat hook        but I’ll suffer no pity     from acquiescent sheep       I’d rather play the devil    than earn a place in heaven     I’d like to burn it down      and erase it from my heart       I’ve been tyrannised with love       for more than long enough     I’m not asking for forgiveness     I’m just not ready yet      I don’t want to be blessed     if I must be content

shrouds

 tell me brothers and sisters       how well do you sleep?     do you lie down gently with acquiescent lambs?      or run in terror with ravenous wolves?      do you follow secret paths known only to your heart?      are the thoughts that await you there a burden to your mind?     because we abhor what we fear      and we fear what we don’t understand       that’s ok    just don’t think about it       avert your gaze     hide your eyes     bury your fear somewhere deep inside     where it will learn your secrets as it festers in the dark     the lord of death knows each of us by name    he nestles in our sheets as we sleep      and we walk with the ghosts and spectres he sends to haunt our dreams       

we’ve been to some dark places      that’s the topography of life    this world is made of fear and death    there is love of course    but that’s just on the surface     deep down we are motivated by fear     and our greatest fear is death     but if we give it no name      perhaps it will go away       like a bad dream    or a spell of rain     it’s three in the morning     we’re wrestling angels and losing again     but we’ll keep up the pretence as long as we can      there are burdens enough with the coming of day       we’ll shake off our shrouds as we roll out of bed      in the land of the living there’s just no room for the dead

archaeology

poor boy was a loner    poor boy was a shadow     he’d been banished from the tribe       because he had this one weird gimmick     you could say it was his calling      poor boy used to dig up ghosts       he found ghosts everywhere      and people didn’t like it       the ghosts didn’t like it        poor boy didn’t like it either        but he was obsessed with his ghosts        he was so obsessed he became a ghost too      and gradually faded away       soon to be forgotten     but I’ve seen him  by the canal      and on the viaduct too         in the company of ghosts    in the melancholic gloom