1973

Meat and two veg
The order of the day
Egg and chips
Those trusty standbys
Powers cuts and strikes
Lock outs and riots
Calor gas evenings
Radio by candle light
The white heat of technology
The Tiber foaming red
Unfulfilled prophesies
Littered the dirty streets
Those were the days
Of sedentary bombs
In secret locations
Policemen & revolutionaries
Armies of occupation
The other Battle of Britain
Was waged in the dark
.

Murderous

I’ll have his guts for garters
He’ll make me a murderer
I’ll swing for him if I have to
I don’t care for consequences
I’ll bash his tiny brain in
Stick his head on a spike
I’m at the end of my tether
About to cut loose
I’ll slash him, stab him
Throttle and drown him
He’ll be the victim
And I’ll be the fucking monster
I swear I’ll do him in
Just one more word
And I’ll do him in
.

Crashing Out

Sometimes I get so low
I start to think about crashing out
All my life I’ve been crashing out
Crashing out of something or other
I get jammed up in situations
So I have to make a change
That’s when I have to crash out
Into a new scene, a new life
When I need help, I need it bad
But there is no help this side of hell
So, I just crash out – make a run for it
I pack my bags and get myself free
.

River

I wanna be stoned
Like the meteor
That crashed into the earth
And killed all the dinosaurs
I wanna be stoned
Like a great muddy river
That flows down the delta
To feed the fishes in the ocean
The juice is good
The booze is so not good
I need a positive stone
Hurled in my direction
Heap me up with manna from heaven
One silver bolt
Would fix you with my meaning
There is no hiding place
From the miracle of creation
.

Shotgun Messenger

You placed your bets
On a stranger's smile
But where did you go
When the lights went out?
You played the game
The best you could
But all you gained - you lost

You thought you could make it
All on your own
You thought you were a winner
But all that makes up our lives
All that’s wrong and right
Is but a fleeting memory
Ours to hold, but not too tight

Bindlestiffs

dummy up and listen good
while I pour moonshine in your ears
we got no homes to go to
and no-one waiting there
the world is big
but not big enough
for us to fit in
we’re the bad apples
who spoiled the whole barrel
fitted up on charges of vagrancy
for wearing out our shoes
we were kings of the highways
with no roof to tie us down
no man could boss us around
now we live with doors unhinged
and when the smoke has cleared
all we have is empty pockets
but once we’re back on the road
we’ll be livin’ high on the hog
low down on the greasy pole
.

Bloody Imposter

They never sicken of taking my blood
They must have gallons by now
Enough to reconstruct the man
To make a blood monster
To take my place
To kiss my wife with his bloody lips
To sleep beside her in my bloody bed
Perhaps I am that bloody man
How would I ever know?
Maybe I’m the bloody doppelganger
What if the real me is locked away
In some asylum somewhere
And I’m his crazy counterpart
The bloody imposter in his life
.

Poppy Tears

The ancient Vedas describe the poppy as ‘heart pleasing’. There is no more apt description.The thin white latex leaks in milky droplets from the poppy’s skin and hardens into a sticky brown resin, the harbinger of dreams. It tastes of bitter lettuce and burns with an acrid smoke that lays soporific charms on the minds of savage beasts. It gifts the touch of night and lays a little death on the hearts of those bleached divers who drink the poppy’s tears on their fatal arc into oblivion.

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