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's over
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken heart
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts, the game's over,
over
Yet another
emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing
on the 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 a
twisted smile,
To bleed the lyric for this song to write the rites to right my wrongs
an epitaph to a
broken dream to exorcise this silent scream
A scream that's borne from sorrow
I never did write that love song
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 mourning and examine the shadows on the other side of
mourning Promised wedding now a wake
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
your
tears, the script for tears
So I'll hold my 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
He Knows You Know
Light switch, yellow fever, crawling
up your bathroom wall Singing psychedelic praises to the depths
of the china bowl You've got venom in your stomach, you've got
poison in your head You should have listen to the priest at the confession when
he offered you the sacred bread
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you
know, but he's
got problems Fast feed, crystal fever, swarming
through a fractured mind Chilling needles freeze emotion, the
blind shall lead the blind You've got venom in your stomach,
you've got poison in your head
When your conscience
whispered, the vein lines stiffened, you were walking
with
the dead He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows,
you know He's got experience, he's got experience, he knows you
know but he's got problems, problems, problems
He knows... Slash wrists, scarlet fever, crawl under your
bathroom door Pumping arteries ooze their problems,
through the gap that the razor tore You've got venom in
your stomach, you've got poison in your head
You should have listened to your analyst's questions when
you
lay on his leather bed
He knows, you know, he knows,
you know, he knows, you know
but he's got problems
Blank eyes, purple fever, streaming through the frosted panes
You
learned your lesson far too late from the links in a chemist chain
You've got venom in your stomach, you've got poison in your head
You should have stayed at home and talked with father
listen
to the lies he fed
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know
but he's got problems
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you
know
he's got experience, he's got experience, he knows, you
know you know, you know, you know
The Web
The rain
auditions at my window, its symphony echoes in my womb
My gaze scans the walls of this apartment to rectify the
confines of my tomb I'm the cyclops in the tenement, I'm the soul
without the cause Crying midst my rubber plants, ignoring
beckoning doors, Clippings from ancient newspapers he scattered
cross the floor Stained by the wine from a shattered
glass, meaningless words, yellowed by time,
Faded photos exposing pain, celluloid leeches bleeding my mind
You've finished playing hangman, you've cast the fateful dice
Advise, advise, advise me, this shroud will not suffice
Attempting to discard these clinging memories, I only
serve to wallow in our past I fabricate the weave with my
excuses, its strands I hope and pray shall last
Oh please do last
The flytrap needs the insect, ivy caresses the
wall Needles make love to the junkies, sirens seduce with their
call Confidence has deserted me, with you it has forsaken
me Confused and rejected, despised and alone,
I kiss isolation on its fevered brow Security clutching me,
obscurity threatening me Your reasons were so obvious as my
friends have qualified I only laughed away your tears, but even
jesters cry
I realise I hold the key to freedom,
I cannot let my life be ruled by threads The time has come
to make decisions, the changes have to be made
I realise I hold the key to freedom, I cannot let my life be
ruled by threads The time has come to make decisions,
the changes have to be made.
Now I leave you, the past has
had its say You're all but forgotten a mote in my heart
Decisions have been made
Decisions have been made
I've
conquered my fears the flaming shroud.
Garden Party
Garden Party
held today, invites call the debs to play, social climbers polish
ladders, wayward sons again have fathers, edgy eggs and queuing
cumbers, rudely wakened from their
slumber, time has come
again for slaughter on the lawns by
still "Cam" waters
Champagne corks are firing at the sun again
Swooping
swallows chased by violins again Straafed by Strauss they sulk in
crumbling eaves again
Aperetifs consumed en masse display their
owners on the grass Couples loiter in the cloisters, social leeches
quoting Chaucer
Doctor's son a parson's daughter where why not
and should they oughta
Please don't lie on the grass, unless
accompanied by a
fellow, may I be so bold as to suggest
Othello
Punting on the Cam is jolly fun they say
Beagling on the downs Oh do please come they say Rugger is the
tops a game for men they say
Angie chalks another blue,
mother smiles she did it too Chitters chat and gossips lash, posers
pose, pressmen flash
Smiles polluted with false charm, locking
onto Royal arms, Society columns now ensured, return to mingle
with the crowds Oh what a crowd
Chelsea Monday
Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress living 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'll really love you, you'll
charm them with that smile But for now it`s just another
Chelsea Monday
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
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
Patience my tinsel angel, patience my
perfumed child One day they'll really love you, you'll charm them
with that smile But for now it's just another Chelsea
Monday
Hello John, did you see the Standard about four hours ago?
Fished a young chick out the Old Father
Blonde 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
Forgotten Sons
Armalite, street lights, nightsights Searching the roofs for a
sniper, viper, fighter Death in the shadows he'll maim you,
wound you, kill you for a long forgotten cause, on not so
foreign shores, boys baptised in wars.
Morphine, chill stream, bad dream Serving as numbers on
dogtags, flakrags, sandbags Your girl has married your best
friend, loves end, poison pen Your flesh will always creep,
tossing turning sloop The wounds that burn so deep
Your mother sits at the edge of the world when the
cameras
start to roll
Panoramic viewpoints ressurect the
killing fold Your father drains another beer he's one of the few
that cares Crawling behind a saracen's hull
from the safety of his living
room chair - Forgotten Sons,
Forgotten Sons, Forgotten Sons.
And so as I patrol the valley of the
shadow of the Tricolor I must fear evil for I am but mortal and
mortals can only die asking questions, pleading answers from the
nameless faceless watchers that stalk the carpeted corridors of
Whitehall,
Who order desecration, mutilation, verbal
masturbation in
their guarded bureaucratic wombs
Minister, Minister care for your children, order them not into
damnation to eliminate those who would trespass against you, for
whose is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever
Amen - Halt who goes there, death,
approach friend
You're just
another coffin on its way down the emerald aisle Where the children's stony glances mourn your death in a
terrorist's smile. The bomber's arm places fiery gifts on the
supermarket shelves, Alleys sing with shrapnel detonate in a
temporary hell
Forgotten Sons
From the dolequeue to the regiment a profession in a flash,
but
but remember Monday signings when from door to door you dash, On
the news a nation mourns your unknown soldier
count the cost,
For a second you'll be famous but labelled posthumous
Forgotten Sons Forgotten Sons
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
Mother Brown has lost her child Just another
Forgotten Son