The Fletcher Memorial

take all your overgrown infants away somewhere

and build them a home a little place of their own
the fletcher memorial
home for incurable tyrants and kings

and they can appear to themselves every day
on closed circuit t.v.
to make sure they’re still real
it’s the only connection they feel
“ladies and gentlemen, please welcome reagan and haig
mr. begin and friend mrs. thatcher and paisley
mr. brezhnev and party
the ghost of mccarthy
the memories of nixon
and now adding colour a group of anonymous latin
american meat packing glitterati”

did they expect us to treat them with any respect

they can polish their medals and sharpen their
smiles, and amuse themselves playing games for a while
boom boom, bang bang, lie down you’re dead

safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye
with their favourite toys
they’ll be good girls and boys
in the fletcher memorial home for colonial
wasters of life and limb

is everyone in?
are you having a nice time?
now the final solution can be applied

Final Cut

through the fish eyed lens of tear stained eyes
i can barely define the shape of this moment in time
and far from flying high in clear blue skies
i’m spiralling down to the hole in the ground where i hide

if you negotiate the minefield in the drive
and beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes
and if you make it past the shotgun in the hall
dial the combination. open the priesthole
and if i’m in i’ll tell you what’s behind the wall

there’s a kid who had a big hallucination
making love to girls in magazines
he wonders if you’re sleeping with your new found faith
could anybody love him
or is it just a crazy dream

and if i show you my dark side
will you still hold me tonight
and if i open my heart to you
and show you my weak side
what would you do
would you sell your story to rolling stone
would you take the children away
and leave me alone
and smile in reassurance
as you whisper down the phone
would you send me packing
or would you take me home

thought i oughta bare my naked feelings
thought i oughta tear the curtain down
i held the blade in trembling hands
prepared to make it
but just then the phone rang
i never had the nerve to make the final cut

The Trees

There is unrest in the forest,
There is trouble with the trees,
For the maples want more sunlight
And the oaks ignore their pleas.

The trouble with the maples,
(And they’re quite convinced the’re right)
They say the oaks are just too lofty
And they grab up all the light.
But the oaks can’t help their feelings
If they like the way they’re made.
And they wonder why the maples
Can’t be happy in their shade.

There is trouble in the forest,
And the creatures all have fled,
As the maples scream ‘Oppression’
And the oaks, just shake their heads

So the maples formed a union
And demanded equal rights.
“The oaks are just too greedy;
We will make them give us light.”
Now there’s no more oak oppression,
For they passed a noble law,
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet, axe, and saw

Xanadu

‘To seek the sacred river Alph
To walk the caves of ice
To break my fast on honeydew
And drink the milk of Paradise…’

I had heard the whispered tales of immortality
The deepest mystery
From an ancient book I took a clue
I scaled the frozen mountain tops of eastern lands unknown
Time and Man alone
Searching for the lost Xanadu

Xanadu…

To stand within the Pleasure Dome
Decreed by Kubla Khan
To taste anew the fruits of life
The last immortal man
To find the sacred river Alph
To walk the caves of ice
Oh, I will dine on honeydew
And drink the milk of Paradise

A thousand years have come and gone but time has passed me by
Stars stopped in the sky
Frozen in an everlasting view
Waiting for the world to end, weary of the night
Praying for the light
Prison of the lost
Xanadu

Xanadu…

Held within the Pleasure Dome
Decreed by Kubla Khan
To taste my bitter triumph
As a mad immortal man
Nevermore shall I return
Escape these caves of ice
For I have dined on honeydew
And drunk the milk of Paradise

Natural Science

When the ebbing tide retreats
Along the rocky shoreline
It leaves a trail of tidal pools
In a short-lived galaxy
Each microcosmic planet
A complete society

A simple kind mirror
To reflect upon our own
All the busy little creatures
Chasing out their destinies
Living in their pools
They soon forget about the sea…

Wheels within wheels in a spiral array
A pattern so grand and complex
Time after time we lose sight of the way
Our causes can’t see their effects

Pseudo Silk Kimono

Huddled in the safety of a pseudo silk kimono
Wearing bracelets of smoke, naked of understanding
Nicotine smears, long, long dried tears, invisible tears
Safe in my own words, learning from my own words
Cruel joke, cruel joke

Huddled in the safety of a pseudo silk kimono
A morning mare rides, in the starless shutters of my eyes
The spirit of a misplaced childhood is rising to speak his mind
To this orphan of heartbreak, disillusioned and scarred
A refugee, refugee

Chelsea Monday

Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Hiding in her cellophane world in glitter town
Awaiting the prince in his white Capri
Dynamic young Tarzan courts the bedsit queen

She’s playing the actress in this bedroom scene
She’s learning her lines from glossy magazines
Stringing all her pearls from her childhood dreams
Auditioning for the leading role on the silver screen

Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child
One day they really love you, you’ll charm them with that smile
But for now it’s just another Chelsea Monday, Chelsea Monday.

Tju..
In the city of dreamers…
Drifting with her incense in the labyrinth of London,
Playing games with faces in the neon wonderland
Perform to scattered shadows on the shattered cobbled aisles
Would she dare recite soliloquies at the risk of stark applause,
to Chelsea Monday

She’ll pray for endless Sundays as she enters saffron sunsets
Conjure phantom lovers from the tattered shreds of dawn,
Fulfilled and yet forgotten the St. Tropez mirage
Fragrant aphrodisiac, the withered tuberose,
Of Chelsea Monday, sweet Chelsea Monday

Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child
One day they really love you, you’ll charm them with that smile
But for now it’s just another Chelsea Monday, sweet Chelsea Monday

Voice: Hello John, did you see The Standard about four hours ago?
Fished a young chick out of The Old Father
Blond hair, blue eyes
She said she wanted to be an actress or something
Nobody knows where she came from, where she was going
Funny thing was she had a smile on her face
She was smiling
What a waste!

Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Buried in her cellophane world in glitter town,
Of Chelsea Monday
[Chelsea Monday]
[She was only dreaming]

Script for a Jester’s Tear

So here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts,
One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self-penned
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
Too late to say I love you - Too late to restage the play
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday

I’m losing on the swings, I’m losing on the roundabouts
I’m losing on the swings, I’m losing on the roundabouts
Too much, too soon, too far to go, too late to play,
The game is over, the game is over

So here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts
I’m losing on the swings, I’m losing on the roundabouts, the game is over, [over]

Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
I’m losing on the swings, I’m losing on the roundabouts, roundabouts, the game is over

Too late to say I love you,
Too late to restage the play, the game is over

I act the role in classic style of a martyr carved with twisted smile
To bleed the lyric for this song to write the rites to right my wrongs
An epitaph to a broken dream to exercise this silent scream
A scream that’s borne from sorrow

I never did write that lovesong,
The words just never seemed to flow
Now sad in reflection did I gaze through perfection
And examine the shadows on the other side of morning
And examine the shadows on the other side of morning
Promised wedding now a wake, promised wedding now a wake, [awake]

The fool escaped from paradise
Will look over his shoulder and cry
Sit and chew on daffodils and struggle to answer “Why?”
As you grow up and leave the playground
Where you kissed your prince and found your frog,
Remember the jester that showed you tears, the script for tears

So I’ll hold our peace forever when you wear your bridal gown
In the silence of my shame the mute that sang the sirens’ song
Has gone solo in the game - I’ve gone solo in the game, but the game is over

Can you still say you love me, can you still say you love me
Can you still say that you love me,
Do you love me, do you love me, do you love me,
Do you love me, the jester’s tear

Can you still say you love me, can you still say you love me,
Can you still say that you love me?

The jester’s tear, the jester’s tear
[Do you love me]

Sugar Mice

I was flicking through the channels on the TV
On a Sunday in Milwaukee in the rain
Trying to piece together conversations
Trying to find out where to lay the blame
But when it comes right down to it there’s no use trying to pretend
For when it gets right down to it there’s no one here that’s left to blame
Blame it on me, you can blame it on me
We’re just sugar mice in the rain

I heard Sinatra calling me through the floorboards
Where you pay a quarter for a partnership in rhyme
To the jukebox crying in the corner
While the waitress is counting out the time

For when it comes right down to it there’s no use trying to pretend
For when it gets right down to it there’s no one really left to blame
Blame it on me, you can blame it on me
We’re just sugar mice in the rain

‘Cos I know what I feel, know what I want I know what I am
Daddy took a raincheck
‘ Cos I know what I want, know what I feel I know what I need
Daddy took a raincheck, your daddy took a raincheck
Ain’t no one in here that’s left to blame but me
Blame it on me, blame it on me

Well the toughest thing that I ever did was talk to the kids on the phone
When I heard them asking questions I knew that you were all alone
Can’t you understand that the government left me out of work
I just couldn’t stand the looks on their faces saying, “What a jerk”

So if you want my address it’s number one at the end of the bar
Where I sit with the broken angels clutching at straws and nursing our scars
Blame it on me, blame it on me,
Sugar mice in the rain, your daddy took a raincheck

Musical Box

Play me Old King Cole
That I may join with you,
All your hearts now seem so far from me
It hardly seems to matter now.

And the nurse will tell you lies
Of a kingdom beyond the skies.
But I am lost within this half-world,
It hardly seems to matter now.

Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.

Just a little bit,
Just a little bit more time,
Time left to live out my life.

Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.

Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
So he called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.

But the clock, tick-tock,
On the mantlepiece -
And I want, and I feel, and I know, and I touch,
the wall

She’s a lady, she’s got time,
Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your face.
She’s a lady, she is mine.
Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your flesh.

I’ve been waiting here for so long
And all this time has passed me by
It doesn’t seem to matter now
You stand there with your fixed expression
Casting doubt on all I have to say.
Why don’t you touch me, touch me,
Why don’t you touch me, touch me,
Touch me now, now, now, now, now…