Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors
Bell boys checking out the hookers in the bar
Slug-like fingers trace the star-spangled clouds of cocaine on the mirror
The short straw takes its bow
The tell tale tocking of the last cigarette marking time in the pockets as the
whisky sweat lies like
discarded armour on an unmade bed As familiar cravings are
crawling through his head
And the only sign of life is the
ticking of the pen Introducing characters to memories like old
friends Frantic as a cardiograph scratching out the lines
In a fever of confession a catalogue of crime in happy
hour
New shadows tugging at the corner of his eye Jostling for
attention as the sunlight flares Through a curtains tear,
shuffling its beams As if in nervous anticipaion of another
day
(Champney's Heath Farm, Tring)
Warm Wet Circles
On promenades where drunks propose to lonely
arcade mannequins where ceremonies pause at the jewellers
shop display feigning casual silence in strained romantic
interludes till they commit themselves to the muted journey
home And the pool player rests on another cue
Last nights hero picking up his dues a honeymoon gambled
on a ricochet she's staring at the brochures at the
holidays chalking up a name in your hometown
standing all your mates to another round laughing at the
world till the barman wipes away the warm wet
circles
I saw teenage girls like gaudy moths a classrooms shabby
butterflies flirt in the glow of stranded telephone boxes;
planning white lace weddings from smeared hearts and token
proclamations, rolled from stolen lipsticks across the
razored webs of glass Sharing cigarettes with experience with
her giggling jealous confidantes, she faithfully traces his
name with quick bitten fingernails through the tears
of condensation that'll cry through the night
as the glancing
headlights of the last bus kiss
adolescence goodbye
In a
warm wet circle Like a mothers kiss on your first broken heart, a
warm wet circle Like a bullethole in Central Park, a warm wet
circle and I'll always surrender to the warm wet circles
She nervously undressed in the dancing beams of the Fidra lighthouse
giving it all away before its too late
She'll let a lovers tongue
move in a warm wet circle giving it all away and showing no
shame She'll take a mother's kiss on her first broken heart
a warm wet circle, she'll realise that she plays her part in a warm wet
circle
(the Quarterdeck, North Berwick)
It was a wedding ring, destined to be found in a cheap hotel
Lost in a kitchen sink or thrown in a wishing well
That Time Of The Night (The Short
Straw)
At that time of the night when streetlights throw
crosses through window frames, paranoia roams where the
shadows reign At that time of the night
At that time of the night your senses tangled in some new perfume
criticism triggers of a loaded room At that time of the night
So
if you ask me how do I fell inside I could honestly tell you
we've been taken on a very long ride And if my owners let me
have some free time some day With all good intention I would
probably run away clutching the short straw
At that time of the night when questions rally in an open mind
summon all your answers with an ice cubes chime
at that time of the night, at that time of the night
pretend you're off the hook with the telephone
your confidence wounded in a free fire zone, at that time
of the night
So if you ask me where do I go
from here, my next destination isn't even that clear. So if you
join me and get on your knees and pray, I'll show you
salvation we'll take the alternative way clutching the short
straw
If I had enough money I'd buy a round for that boy
over-there a companion in my madness in the mirror the one
with the silvery hair. If some kind soul could please pick
up my tab and while they're at it if they could
pick up my
broken heart.
Warm Wet Circles
(Mayflower Hotel NYC, Wheatsheaf - Haywards Heath)
Going Under
Is it
wrong to talk to myself even when there's nobody else I'm just
checking out that I've not gone under the
water or thrown on the
beach like a seal ready
for slaughter Can't you understand that
the way things were planned it never worked out so I just
went crazy I took to the drink like something say its
"maybe"
I ain't got no excuse and that's really the news
I got nothing else to say, except it's my way it's always my way I
seem to be running away so often I'll try anything once and
that's the way we should be but it's always the same getting
caught up again In a habit, a habit that I just can't shake
off the way it always turned out
can you understand it's the way I choose to be everything seems
so easy this way but I'm going under fast, I'm slipping away,
am I so crazy
(Albert St., Aylesbury)
Just For The Record
Many's the time I've been thinking about
changing my ways But when it gets right down to it it's the same
drunken haze I'm serving a sentence to write lifes
sentences It's only when I'm out of it I make sense of this
Just for the record I'm gonna put it down Just for the record I'm
gonna change my life around
Just a revolutionary with a
pseudonym Just a barroom dancer on my final fling
Just another writer paying off my dues Just finding
inspiration well that's my excuse
Just for the record I'm
gonna put it down Just for the record I'm gonna change my life
around Just another empty gesture with an empty glass
Just another comic actor behind a tragic mask,
But I've got no
discipline got no self control It's just a little less painful here when
my back's against the wall
It's too late, it's too far, I'm in two
minds and both of them are out of it at the bar
When you say I've got a problem that's a certainty But I put it
all right down to eccentricity It's just for the record it's just a
passing phase Just for the record I can stop any
day
(Marquee Club, London)
White Russian
Where do we go from here
They're boarding up the synagogues uzis on a street corner You
can't take a photograph of uzis on a street corner the DJ
resigned today they wouldn't let him have his say a surface
scratched where the needles play, uzis on a street corner
Where do we go from here
Terror on the Rue de St. Denis,
murder on the peripherie Someone else in someone else's
pocket, Christ knows I don't know how to stop it
Lay poppies at the Cenotaph, the cynics can't afford to laugh, I
heard in on the telegraph there's uzis on a street
corner
Where do we go from here
The
more I see the more I hear the more I find fewer answers I
close my mind, I shut it out but you know its getting harder to
calm down, to reason out, to come to terms with what
it's all about I'm uptight, can't sleep at night, I can't pretend
everything's Alright. My ideals my sanity, they seem to
be deserting me but to stand up and fight I know
we have six million reasons
They're buring down the synagogues
uzis on a street corner the heralds of the holocaust uzis on a
street corner
The silence never louder than now, how quickly we
forgot our vows, this resurrection we can't allow, the uzis
on a street corner
Where do we go from here
We buy fresh bagels from the corner store Where swastikas
are spat from aerosols I sit in the bar sipping iced white
russians trying to score but nobody's pushing
and everyone looks at everyone's faces searching for signs
and praying for traces of a conscience in residence, are we
sitting on a barbed wire fence, chasing the clouds home
We place our faith in human rights In the paper wars that tie
the redtape tight I know that I would rather be out of this
conspiracy
In the gulags and internment camps
nameless faces in frozen ranks I know that they would
rather be standing here beside me chasing the clouds
home
We place our faith in human rights
In the paper wars that tie the redtape tight I know that I would
rather be out of this conspiracy
In the gulags and internment
camps nameless faces in frozen ranks
I know that they would rather be standing here beside me
chasing the clouds home racing the clouds home
You can shut your eyes, you can hide away it's gonna come
back another day
racing the clouds home
But where do we go from here
(Hilton, Vienna)
Incommunicado
I'd be really pleased to meet you if I could
remember your name But I got problems with my memory ever since
I got a winner in the fame game
I'm a citizen of Legoland
travellin Incommunicado and I don't give a damn for the Fleet
Street afficionados
But I don't want to be the backpage
interview I don't want launderette anonymity
I want my handprints in the concrete on Sunset Boulevard a
dummy in Tussauds you'll se Incommunicado
I'm a Marquee
veteran, a muti-media bonafide celebrity I've got an allergy to
Perrier, daylight and responsibility I'm a rootin-tootin cowboy a
Peter Pan with street credibility always making the point with
the dawn patrol fraternity
Sometimes it seems like I've been
here before when I hear opportunity kicking in my door
call it synchronicity call it Deja Vu I just put my faith in
destiny - it's the way that I choose
But I don't want to be a tin can
tied to the bumper of a wedding limousine, or currently residing in
the where are the now file a toupee on the cabaret
scene I want to do adverts for American Express cards
and talk shows on prime time t.v., a villa in France my own
cocktail bar and that's where you're gonna find me
incommunicado
Sometimes it seems like I've been here
before When I hear opportunity kicking in my door
Call it synchronicity call it deja vu I just put my faith in destiny
it's the way that I choose - incommunicado
(Rainbow Room, LA; St. Moritz Club, London)
Torch Song
Read some
Kerouac and it put me on the tracks to burn a little brighter now. It
was something about roman canddles fizzin out, shine a little light on me now,
I found a strange fascination with a liquid fixation
alcohol can thrill me now It's getting late in the game to show
any pride or shame I just burn a little brighter now, burn a little brighter now
Doctor says my liver looks like leaving with my lover, I
need another "time out" now, Like any sort of hero turnin down to
zero still standing out in any crowd Pulling seventeen with
experience and dreams, sweating out a happy hour, Where
you're hiding 29 you know it ain't a crime to burn a little
brighter now, burn a little brighter now
Dr. Finlay: And my advice is if you
maintain this lifestyle you won't reach 30
Torch: it's a romantic way to go
really, part of the heritage,
it's your round in 'it
We burn a
little brighter now Read some Kerouac and it put me on the
tracks to burn a little brighter now
It was something about roman canddles fizzin out, shine a little
light on me now, I found a strange fascination with a liquid
fixation, alcohol thrill me now It's getting late in the game to
show any pride or shame We burn a little brighter now, burn a
little brighter now
(Virgin Airways, 747 - Newark-Heathow)
Slante Mhath
A hand held over a candle in angst fuelled
bravado a carbon trail scores a moist fresh palm
Trapped in the indecion of another fine menu And you sit there
and ask me to tell you the story so far This is the story so
far Shuffling your memories dealing your doodles in
margins You scrawl out your poems across a beermat or
two And when you declare the point of grave creation
They turn round and you to tell them the story so far
This is the story so far And you listen with a tear in you
eye To their hopes and betrayals and your only reply
Is Slante mhath Princes in exile raising the standard
Drambuie Parading their anecdotes tired from oldd
campaigns Holding their own last orders commanding
attention We sit here and listen to all of the story so far
This is the story so far Take it away, take it away, take it
away Take me away From the
dream on the barbed wire at Flanders and Bliston Glen From a
Clydesdale that rusts from the tears of its broken men From the
realisation that we've been left behind Is to stand like our
fathers before us in the firing line Waiting on the whistle to
blow, we stand here waiting On the whistle to blow
They promised us miracles, and the whistle still blows
Broken promises, and the whistle still blows The whistle
still blow
Slainte Mhath
A hand held over a candle in angst fuelled
bravado a carbon trail scores a moist stretched palm
Trapped in the indecision of another fine menu and you sit there
and ask me to tell you the story so far This is the story so
far Shuffling your memories dealing your doodles in
margins you scrawl out your poems across a beermat or
two and when you declare the point of grave creation
They turn round and ask you to tell them the story so far
This is the story so far And you listen with a tear in you
eye to their hopes and betrayals and your only reply
is Slainte mhath Princes in exile raising the standard
Drambuie parading their anecdotes tired from old
campaigns holding their own last orders commanding
attention we sit here and listen to all of the story so far
This is the story so far Take it away, take it away, take it
away Take me away From the
dream on the barbed wire at Flanders and Bilston Glen From a
Clydeside that rusts from the tears of its broken men from the
realisation that all we've been left behind is to stand like our
fathers before us in the firing line Waiting on the whistle to
blow, we stand here waiting on the whistle to blow
They promised us miracles, and the whistle still blows
broken promises, and the whistle still blows The whistle
still blows
(Oyster Bar, Edinburgh, County Bar, Dalkeith)
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
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
that 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,
your daddy took a raincheck
(Holiday Inn, Milwaukee)
The Last Straw
Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors
a typewriter cackles out a stream of memories
Drying out a conscience, evicting a nightmare
Opening the doors for the dreams to come home
We live out lives in private shells
ignore out senses and fool ourselves
into thinking that out there there's someone else cares
someone to answer all our prayers...
Are we too far gone, are we so irresponsible
Have we lost out balls, or do we just not care
We're terminal cases that keep talking medicine
Pretending the end isn't quite that near
We make futile
gestures, act to the cameras
With our made up faces and PR smiles
and when the angel comes down to deliver us
we'll find out after all, we're only men of straw
But everything is still the same
passing the time passing the blame
we carry on in the same old way
we'll find out we left it too late one day
to say what we meant to say
Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the water
those problems seem to arise the one you never really thought of
the feeling you get is similar to some sort of drowning
when you are out of your mind, out of your depth,
you sound have taken soundings
We're clutching at straws, we're clutching at straws clutching at straws
And if you ever come across us don't give us your sympathy
You can buy us a drink and just shake our hands
and you'll
recognise by the reflections in our eyes
that deep down inside
we're all one and the same
We're clutching at straws still
drowning