Half filled with sand and seashells
Bottle
Half filled with air and
The scrolled up love letter
From the unknown soldier's lover
Black pudding
Black pudding and bacon
As the razor-light rays
Frisk the mornings horizon
Today we should have been sailing
Sailing in search of stories
And in February it rains, and rains
It rains, it rains, it is black, and it rains
I am sat
On a rather swish velvet corduroy settee
Beside a scale-model, and storyboard
Of the steam cruiser Atlantis
I recognise this buildings timber structure
It is a facsimile of my health club
Which burnt to the ground last winter
Let's hope we are safer tonight with Jack Harris
We talked about the idea of bottles
Bottles where people placed notes
Notes with song titles
Also with their own story, or love letter
The bottles would grow in a line
At each gathering we would open one bottle
Play the song on the stereo
And read out the long lost love-letter
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