Crystal fountain springing from the hill. It irrigates your soul. you may drink your fill. Water of life, carried high. One hand upon the gallon jar. feel her fix my eye.
Every good traveller's for the taking. All good money for the making.
Seller's market: wet appeal. Water carrier------let's make the deal.
Covered face and black pool eyes. Between us, no words spoken: no words to the wise. Here's to another time and a drink somewhere. Plush on a nain carpet; on a cafe chair.
My first and last time with you And we had some fun. Went walking through the trees, yeah! And then I kissed you once. Oh I want to see you soon But I wonder how. It was a new day yesterday But it's an old day now.
Spent a long time looking For a game to play. My luck should be so bad now To turn out this way. Oh I had to leave today Just when I thought I'd found you. It was a new day yesterday But it's an old day now.
Gonna lose my way tomorrow, Gonna give away my car. I'd take you along with me, But you would not go so far. Don't see what I do not want to see, You don't hear what I don't say. Won't be what I don't want to be, I continue in my way.
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin', Don't see, see, see where I'm goin', Don't see, see, see where I'm goin' to, I don't want to.
Everyday I see the mornin' come on in the same old way. I tell myself tomorrow brings me things I would not dream today.
Gonna lose my way tomorrow, Gonna give away my car. I'd take you along with me, But you would not go so far. Don't see what I do not want to see, You don't hear what I don't say. Won't be what I don't want to be, I continue in my way.
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin', Don't see, see, see where I'm goin', Don't see, see, see where I'm goin' to, I don't want to.
Hey little buddies: soft and silky night walkers. Dangerous species - Tiptoe menace long grass stalkers on my bed: no butter melting in your jaws. Bonding monster - Lethal weapon wearing claws.
Let's go out to hunt by numbers.
Tabby, spotted, black as coal - Serval, Margy, Caracal. Moggie in the moonlight listens: whiskered sensory miracle. Felis, befriend us - Egyptian Mau - Freya's familiar. Long in the future - Cloned disciples, the castle guard.
You'll hear me calling in your sweet dream Can't hear your daddy's warning cry You're going back to be all the things you want to be While in sweet dreams you softly sigh
You hear my voice is calling To be mine again Live the rest of your life in a day
Get out and get what you can While your mummy's at home a-sleeping No time to understand 'Cause they lost what they thought they were keeping
No one can see us in your sweet dream Don't hear you leave to start the car All wrapped up tightly in the coat you borrowed from me, Your place of resting is not far
You hear my voice is calling To be mine again Live the rest of your life in a day
Get out and get what you can While your mummy's at home a-sleeping No time to understand 'Cause they lost what they thought they were keeping
Get out and get what you can While your mummy's at home a-sleeping No time to understand 'Cause they lost what they thought they were keeping
Wond'ring aloud -- How we feel today. Last night sipped the sunset -- My hands in her hair. We are our own saviours As we start both our hearts beating life Into each other.
Wond'ring aloud -- Will the years treat us well. As she floats in the kitchen, I'm tasting the smell Of toast as the butter runs. Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed And I shake my head. And it's only the giving That makes you what you are.
Really don't mind if you sit this one out. My words but a whisper -- your deafness a SHOUT. I may make you feel but I can't make you think. Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and you make all your animal deals and your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away In the tidal destruction the moral melee. The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and your suntan does rapidly peel and your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the love that I feel is so far away: I'm a bad dream that I just had today -- and you shake your head and say it's a shame.
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth. Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth. Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.
See there! A son is born -- and we pronounce him fit to fight. There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night. We'll make a man of him put him to trade teach him to play Monopoly and not to sing in the rain.
The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water -- as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea. The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other -- as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed. The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling -- but the master of the house is far away. The horses stamping -- their warm breath clouding in the sharp and frosty morning of the day. And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.
And the youngest of the family Is moving with authority. Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside.
The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea: the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need. The young men of the household have all gone into service and are not to be expected for a year. The innocent young master -- thoughts moving ever faster -- has formed the plan to change the man he seems. And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword.
And the oldest of the family Is moving with authority. Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run.
What do you do when the old man's gone -- do you want to be him? And your real self sings the song. Do you want to free him? No one to help you get up steam -- and the whirlpool turns you 'way off-beam.
LATER. I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways. My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed. So come on all you criminals! I've got to put you straight just like I did with my old man -- twenty years too late. Your bread and water's going cold. Your hair is too short and neat. I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.
You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone -- you meet the stares. You're unaware that your doings aren't done. And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be. But how are we supposed to see where we should run?
I see you shuffle in the courtroom with your rings upon your fingers and your downy little sidies and your silver-buckle shoes. Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comic-paper idol who lets you bend the rules.
So! Come on ye childhood heroes! Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books your super crooks and show us all the way. Well! Make your will and testament. Won't you? Join your local government. We'll have Superman for president let Robin save the day.
You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time. The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line. And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are -- and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars. And you wonder who to call on.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday? And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though? They're all resting down in Cornwall -- writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual.
LATER. See there! A man born -- and we pronounce him fit for peace. There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease. We'll take the child from him put it to the test teach it to be a wise man how to fool the rest.
QUOTE We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional God is an overwhelming responsibility we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons It says here that cats are on the upgrade upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac.
LATER In the clear white circles of morning wonder, I take my place with the lord of the hills. And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neat little rows) sporting canvas frills. With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention, while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen. Saying -- how's your granny and good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.
The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn) lie cradled in the seagull's call. And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall. The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun, and signal for the crack of dawn. Light the sun.
Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day! The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun. Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one.
Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day! The fading hero has returned to the night -- and fully pregnant with the day, wise men endorse the poet's sight. Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day!
Let me tell you the tales of your life of your love and the cut of the knife the tireless oppression the wisdom instilled the desire to kill or be killed. Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by. The pavements are empty: the gutters run red -- while the fool toasts his god in the sky.
So come all ye young men who are building castles! Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. Mark the precise nature of your fear.
Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed with the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise and from the pan under your bed. Let me make you a present of song as the wise man breaks wind and is gone while the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and the nursery rhyme winds along.
So! Come all ye young men who are building castles! Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus. Mark the precise nature of your fear. See! The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you and the hour of judgement draweth near. Would you be the fool stood in his suit of armour or the wiser man who rushes clear.
So! Come on ye childhood heroes! Won't your rise up from the pages of your comic-books your super-crooks and show us all the way. Well! Make your will and testament. Won't you? Join your local government. We'll have Superman for president let Robin save the day.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday? And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through? They're all resting down in Cornwall -- writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual.
OF COURSE So you ride yourselves over the fields and you make all your animal deals and your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green? With his long tail hanging down. He quietly sits under every tree --- in the folds of his velvet gown. He drinks from the empty acorn cup the dew that dawn sweetly bestows. And taps his cane upon the ground --- signals the snowdrops it's time to grow.
It's no fun being Jack-In-The-Green --- no place to dance, no time for song. He wears the colours of the summer soldier --- carries the green flag all the winter long.
Jack, do you never sleep --- does the green still run deep in your heart? Or will these changing times, motorways, powerlines, keep us apart? Well, I don't think so --- I saw some grass growing through the pavements today.
The rowan, the oak and the holly tree are the charges left for you to groom. Each blade of grass whispers Jack-In-The-Green. Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night. And we are the berries on the holly tree. Oh, the mistlethrush is coming. Jack, put out the light.
Words get written. Words get twisted. Old meanings move in the drift of time. Lift the flickering torches. See gentle shadows change the features of the faces cut in unmoving stone. Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening. Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
True disciples carrying that message to colour just a little with their personal touch. Home-spun fancy weavers and naked half-believers -- Crusades and creeds descend like fiery flakes of snow. Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening. Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening. Roots to branches Roots to branches Roots to branches
In wet and windy priest-holes. Grand in vast cathedrals. High on lofty minarets or in the temples of doom. I hope the old man's got his face on. He'd better be some quick change artist. Suffer little children to make their minds up soon. Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening. Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening. Roots to branches Roots to branches Roots to branches
Roots to branches Roots to branches Roots to branches
Who would be a poor man, a beggar man, a thief If he had a rich man in his hand And who would steal the candy From a laughing baby's mouth If he could take it from the money man
Cross eyed Mary Goes jumping in again She signs no contract But she always plays the game She dines in Hamstead village On expense accounted gruel And her jacknife father Drops her off at school
Laughing in the playground Gets no kicks from little boys Who'd rather make it with electric trains Or maybe her attention, is drawn by Aqualung Who watches through the railings as they play
Cross eyed Mary Finds it hard to get along She's a poor man's rich girl And she'll do it for a song She's a rich man's stealer But her favor's good and strong She's the Robin Hood of Highgate Help the poor man get along
Laughing in the playground Gets no kicks from little boys Who'd rather make it with electric trains Or maybe her attention, is drawn by Aqualung Who watches through the railings as they play
Cross eyed Mary Goes jumping in again She signs no contract But she always plays the game She dines in Hamstead village On expense accounted gruel And jacknife father Drops her off at school
My Sunday feeling is coming on over me. My Sunday feeling is coming on over me, Now that the night is over. Got to clear my head so I can see. Till I get to put together, That old feeling won't let me be.
Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night? Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night? I really don't remember, But with one more cigarette and I think I might. Till I get to put together, Well that old feeling can't get me right.
Need some assistance, have you listened to what I said? Need some assistance, have you listened to what I said? Oh, I don't feel so good. Need someone to help me to my bed. Till I get to put together, That old feeling is in my head.
