1. |
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It’s hard to be a worthy suitor
when you’re bringing in less than the piano tutor,
when you’re making love to a lofty future.
Can we get back down on all fours?
I’m the unknown quantity, a stranger to your needs.
Just a friend of the family, a guy the family feeds.
No outward sign of ambition,
I’m no material guy.
Just an orphan child eyeing up that gleaming set of wheels.
Are we going for a drive?
I’m the unknown quantity, a stranger to your needs.
Just a friend of the family, a guy the family feeds.
Our pleasantries are bitter-sweet, I’m a stranger to your needs.
Just a friend of the family, a guy the family feeds.
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2. |
Feast Of O's (extract)
00:51
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Woken by the bawdy bellows
of some loud and noisome fellows,
creeping to my bed in thick billows,
seeping through my pile of pillows.
Bigots belching something callow,
bawdy bellows, noisome fellows,
their angry argot and surly lingo.
I bury my face as my forehead furrows.
I was mellow.
I watch the machos and the bozos
rev a turbo, sport a logo.
Land is fallow, harvests narrow,
bleak predictions for tomorrow.
The bawdy bellows of noisome fellows
underneath my darkened window,
a feast of O’s so hard to swallow
just as I was getting mellow.
I was mellow.
Now I’m growing gently gung-ho,
it’s time to leave my crumpled pillow.
Greasing up some weighty ammo
is a pleasure I won’t forego.
Tucked behind a well-trimmed hedgerow,
I’ll be here until the cockcrow
for to slay these noisome fellows
with a blow from my trusty crossbow.
Then hop home through field and meadow
like a jaunty morning sparrow.
I believe it’s hard to know
quite when the corpses go dark yellow.
I was mellow.
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3. |
Funereal, I... (extract)
00:45
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A neural fuel, a fine real ale.
I refuel in an ireful funeral line.
I fear a rifle in an ear.
I feel a lean relief, I, a frail flea in a urinal.
I infer an unfair finale.
Funereal, I, funereal, I near a lunar fire.
I rue a failure.
I rile, I rail in a far lane.
I rue a final nail in a fine life.
An alien era, a lie ran rife in a faerie,
in an unreal file, an unfair finale!
Funereal, I, funereal, I near a lunar fire.
Funereal, I flee a ruin.
I flee, I run. Nil-one!
I rue a failure. I flee a ruin.
Funereal, I, funereal, I…
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4. |
Happen Upon It (extract)
01:04
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Love is found not in the hours
counted by the time of clocks,
but in eternal ones
that might just dwell in some big rocks.
It knows not time or measured feeling,
not conditions or double dealing.
It’s actually clear, strangely stable,
dark and bright, inevitable.
And I happened upon it.
You just happen upon it.
It isn’t stopwatched while defying gravity.
It’s safe and sound here on the ground.
If you land it, don’t rebrand it.
Not the tricky geometry of a fancy pyramid.
No need to try to work out py,
you just happen upon it.
You just happen upon it.
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Pol To Paul Lille, France
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