my favourite shirt lies on the bed
just like that Nicky Heyward said
and no one pulled the blinds last night
I laugh inside at who I became
on Earle Street in the pouring rain
as my shadows drank up the light
of just another Sunday morning
let regrets play no mind
just another tied on head
push the button to rewind
the bells are ringing,
and the sirens singing
to warn of wars that never came
for the end will be dealt
in silence and stealth
and what was won’t come again.
the blessed harp of ancient days is silent
decaying in the rains of winter’s lost
its strapped entrails sing no more of glory
or of the heroes’ blood its songs had cost
What are you dear space cowboy?
at that round up on the moon
are your spurs all full of cheese
and holsters full of spoons?
don’t you know that moonbeams
cannot be herded in
nor can the silver light that shines
be branded on its skin
so take a break space cowboy
and sing your western tunes
the night sky is a lonely range
and most lonesome is the moon.
I thought upon your name
as the warm Sinatra rain
sang onto rooftops
this grey September day
and from beyond the tears
I’d collected through the years
I drew a crooked smile
that I know won’t go away
maybe if I dream you right
thoughts of you will come tonight
and in the morning I’ll awake
to a bright new autumn day.
There’s a little black duck having fun today
he quacked in B sharp then he flew away
his vocabulary’s weak but his tune is grand
So I’ll grab my kazoo and then join his band
from another riverbank
I stand watching her
framed against
the distant clouds
from another riverbank
I stand watching her
singing her song
without words
from another riverbank
I stand watching her
as the rain falls
on the still waters
and the ripples which grow
closer to the other side
roll against the footprints
where she once stood
and whisper my song
too late, too late
while I can only stand
and watch her
from another riverbank
this sunset tastes like
eighty three
then nights were
what they’re meant to be
in which we played
our party games
and in them
parts of us remained
I built a golden elephant
from love heart painted walls
and behind
sprayed valentines
there was no gold at all
I found a silver dollar
under icebergs made of tears
I just suppose
they all froze
from some material fear
I’m too far gone from my mind today
to write a song for you today
so instead
I’ll whistle a tune
and hope you make
all the words come true
