I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For (U2)

I scathe at the indifference
Beside myself with rage
I crawl with stiff resistance
To forge words on the page
The lathe of love once turned
I remember to this very day
Those hot-ache cokes that burned
To fire the kilns of clay

Hide away then the inference
There’s more which I wish to claim
In this league of subsistence
The desire is mine to aim
So my dear once more to flower
Before the time to go on stage
I write for the coliseum’s power
Of that pastoral present age

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Seasons In The Sun (Jacques Brel And Rod McKuen)

I spoke of the truth
Yet so so few did receive me
I crossed out the lies
Which tried so so hard to deceive me
I sang the song that I saw
And oh, oh how time raced along
I was you see as I was before
And oh, oh how the passions raged among

Yet guilt was always close on by
As those cold unbeholden no-no words surfaced
I never was so so foolishly unwise
With absolutely no certainty of purpose
Today it is the Cherry Blossom
Blowing low, wafting low on the breeze
The equanimity of you and you, my possum
Whose lower than low esteem I had to leave

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No Face, No Name, No Number (Traffic)

Without your identity where are you
Without your intention where are you
Without your light where are we
Where then might our catchment content be
Born into the valley
Given to the clay as given to the water
Thus to call out all over the oceans
Thus to climb up to the top of the hills

Without sight how might I see you near me
Without sound how might I round you up
Without scent how might your aroma fill me
Where then might our essence ever dwell
Scattered to the four winds
Gifted to the previous attachments
Is it ever to parade itself majestically
Thus to bounce lightly on and into the night

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I Talk To The Wind (King Crimson)

On the unadopted road
With four pairs
Of Nineteen-thirties semi-detached houses
With open fields
To the front and to the sides
Where on the night of the party
Friends congregated, including
Teenagers seeking to lose their virginity

The policeman asked
Is that King Crimson I can hear
The prog-rockers in their glitter said yes
The folkies with their acoustic guitars said yes
The soul dudes in their mohair suits said yes
The hippy hippy shake shakers loosely said yes
The LSD boys said yes, at least imagined they did
And I said; yes, yes it is officer; do you like it?

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Nessun Dorma (Jeff Beck)

The players are due out soon
Crowds of fans wait in anticipation
Hairs rising on the backs of their necks
Smiles foraging about in the sunlight
Another Sheffield Wednesday Saturday
Another day among friends on the Kop
And aren’t we classy to play Nessun Dorma
Before we sing along to Hi-Ho Silver Lining

Six plays of the newly downloaded playlist later
Jeff Beck’s music is lucidly infused within me
I was close to tears watching and hearing
Rod Stewart and Eric Clapton and Jan Hammer
Talk so lovingly and adoringly about him
This was the peer to peer adulation we all crave
You may have been there with Elvis Costello
Or the Arctic Monkeys could take you there

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