home

 home is where your head’s at     and my head’s at home    I ain’t stashing empty bottles      behind no shotgun shack     I’m organised for life    here in the digital world      I changed the lock on my door      and threw away the key    I’m walking that line      fingers crossed behind my back     

it’s fuel for life    totally automatic      sustenance by numbers        maybe it’s the environment       that best suits my clothing       or perhaps the process of osmosis       has slowly filtered out my ambition      but I’ve seen the world outside     and now I’m staying in

haunted

 

lifeless old notions      and long dead ideas      dog my steps     I cannot shake them off     I drag out those sad old fossils      to salt my wounds on lonely nights      I believe in magic because I’m a child     but I believe in ghosts because I’m old      ghosts are our unfinished business     we haunt ourselves        always and everywhere      with the spectres of things that happened      and the spectres of things that didn’t      even dreams are wraiths that pursue us in our sleep      in the night my ghosts have voices     they tell me I’m a ghost too       that I carry ghosts within me      I am empty of everything     save my ghosts       my head is a haunted house      and ghosts my hollow companions

dust

 my words are carried to you     through electrical transcription     I type them out downtown      you hear them in your mind      I think I lost my mojo       to another cinnamon girl      do elephants keep diaries?     coz I remember every sorry kiss       how quickly we fade out       how slowly we ride on        the threshold of my mind      is bitter sweet with memories         baby. comfort me     coz I’m sorry now      sorry for all my lies       I went wrong       but in my own right      I simply wouldn’t follow       it’s the story of my life

minefields

 are you up too early?    or down too late?    did someone steal your dreams?    or did you give them away?    maybe that’s a question    for some other time     coz I’m the bastard son     of a bastard son      just another lazy sod      with magic in his pants     and I’d love to stir your pot      in the horizontal dance     

there’s been a revolution     though no-one fired a shot     our brave new monsters     are conscientiously amoral     totally natural     adjusted to the vicissitudes of love      and the demands of iconoclast

does it burn?      does it itch?    don’t get your knickers in a twist     stop  your sobbing     dry your eyes     I didn’t break your heart     I only bent your mind    it’s not your first disappointment    and likely won’t be your last    modern romance is a minefield     and that just cracks me up    

screamer

I see my own private babylon      sinking with the sun    everything is fucked     I’ve got to let it go     I’m just not cost effective      so they put me out to pasture       now there’s nowhere left to hide     everywhere stinks of shit     it’s the tyranny of conformity      at least, that’s what I think       but who taught me how to think?       the devil makes work for idle minds     I ought to learn to sing        fill my throat with love     I could act like I never knew     but we both know       it’s not enough       unexpressed thoughts?      I’m having one now        can I be blunt?       I’m in mourning      all my dreams have died     I don’t know what else to say       it’s hard to think straight     when you’re screaming