: Let me bring you songs from the wood: to make you feel much better than you could know. Dust you down from tip to toe. Show you how the garden grows
: 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
: I'll buy you six bay mares to put in your stable six golden apples bought with my pay. I am the first piper who calls the sweet tune, but I must
: Cold aeroplanes, slow boats, warm trains remind me of Jack-A-Lynn. Lush hotels and pretty girls won't cheer the misty mood I'm in. Silly, sad -
: In the half-tone light of a young morning she sighs and shifts on the pillow. And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly to kiss the Pussy
: Spoken Intro: (Lines join in faint discord and the stormwatch brews a concert of kings as the white sea snaps at the heels of a soft prayer whispered
: Keep it quiet. (Go slow.) Circulate. Need to know. Stamp the date upon your file masquerade, but well worth while. Wrapped in the warmth of you
: Through clear skies tracking lightly from far down the line No fanfare, just a blip on the screen No quick conclusions now everything will be fine
: I see a dark sail on the horizon set under a black cloud that hides the sun. Bring me my broadsword and clear understanding. Bring me my cross of
: Nine miles of two-strand topped with barbed wire laid by the father for the son. Good shelter down there on the valley floor, down by where the
: As the moon slips up, and the sun sets down, I'm a highrise jockey, and I'm heaven-bound. Do the workboot shuffle, loose brains from brawn. I'm
: Winds howled. Rains spit down. All these nights playing precious games. Cheap hotel in some seaboard town closed down for the winter and whispered
: In the dark of the city backwoods, something stirs then slips away. Law and order in darkest Knightsbridge. Crime and punishment at play. Hey, Mr
but her bad girl's better. I can read it in her cheating eyes and know that in a while. Well, she'll be kissing Willie. (My best friend, Willie.)
: The old Rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight. Unfashionable to the end drank his ale too light. Death's head belt buckle
: As I did walk by Hampstead Fair I came upon Mother Goose - so I turned her loose she was screaming. And a foreign student said to me was it really
: Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust, An October's day, towards evening, Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough, Salt on a deep chest
Colours I've none dark or light, red, white or blue. Cold is my touch (freezing). Summoned by name - I am the overseer over you. Given this command