I slept till noon
Not often that I do
I rolled over, to dream
Of oceans green and blue
In debt to the song of Brigadoon
Now I think of you
I lay here, to daydream
Of sands and seas
Seas of green and blue
We met in my bedroom
A smile, a handshake too
I sat unsteady; ready to lean
On crates of green and blue
We let the talk turn to magic mushrooms
Now and again I think of you
I lay here, to daydream
Of Babylon, of a cut in silk and bees
The bees of green and blue
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How
Why
Where
What awfully inappropriate words
The dares of deception they cut my cloth too deep
My mother
Her mother before
I don’t know when they began
The cast iron ranges, ovens by the coal fire
The cares of conception they make my pencil seep
Have you
Do you
Could you care or know
Where these words are heading
What was it, that set them on their way backalong
Tin baths
Hanging rails for the drying
Cast enamel for the baking ovens
The park benches on the loneliest of afternoons
The fares of correction, they fill my pockets deep
My lover
Her lover before
I don’t know when they began
The fast diamond laces, the magic of the gyre
Stares of redemption; only my tears which we weep
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Two days to find you
Two days of scraps of torn up paper
Let me remind you
Even more
If you count the ballads
If you count the songs
Just at the break of day
After a late night gig
You walked the blues enormous
Your shoes they danced the simple jig
Now one step, and then one other
With a glass of beer in hand
It’s what he does best, so says his mother
But fails to understand
It is what he does
How ever many days it takes
The rhythm makes for the uncertainty
The liquor soothes the band
Two ways to remind you
The lays and loves behind you
All with torn up scraps of paper
All who want to hold your hand
Even more if you count the hedgerows
Then the green and promised lands
And the smile you rascal
That smile which you wear so dandy grand
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On the corner
Last exit of the roundabout
First turn, you’ll see the sign
And the coach for the roamers
Later, downhill
Passed the old mill and the factory
You’ll learn, first to take mind and will
As the roaches in soft air are still
In the square
By the railings, the clock tower
They discern, demur with conservation
As gamekeeper and poachers weigh and tare
Now, homebound
In the charabanc; a saucy song
Burn your bridges, kiss her on the lips
All around her hat, be ready to be wound girl
Next Sunday, at chapel
Your songbook
Her garland, did you ever
Now fancy that
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Do you
What’s the word I used, I forget
On the theme of to infuriate
But I guess on a more regular basis
Not you
Never mind that I forget
Even less need I discriminate
Yes I guess now and forever always
More than minor observations
On the road
We sing songs of detectives
And private investigations
My indivisible blue period
Someway short of levitation
Is over
My wild rover devoid
I sold nothing at all
Yet always
Always for the highest price
Always to the tightest bidder
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