May I make my fond excuses. For the lateness of the hour,. But we accept your invitation,. And we bring you Beltane's flower.. For the May Day is the great day,.
Walking on air. Shoulder and head above you. Down in the street. Black canyons walking through. . Hooded sad eyes. Fixed on your shuffle shoes. Life is a clue in your crossword.
Spring lights in a hazy May. And a man with a gun at the door. Someone's crawling on the roof above. All the media here for the show. . I've been waiting for our friends to come.
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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?.
Critic of the black and white. It's your first night.. The Passion Play gets in the way,. Spoils your insight.. . Tell me how the baby's made,. How the lady's laid,.
Critic of the black and white. It's your first night.. The Passion Play gets in the way,. Spoils your insight.. . Tell me how the baby's made,. How the lady's laid,.
Tear it down in double quick time. To get the eighth truck shifted 'bout midnight. The locker rooms are empty but the (Strobo Tickers?)(strobe boats?).
Just a little touch of make-up; just a little touch of bull;. just a little 3-chord trick embedded in your platform soul;. you can wear a gold Piaget on your Semaphore wrist;.
(Words and music by David Palmer). . Grey the mist --- cold the dawn;. cruel the sea and stern the shore.. Brave the man who sets his course. For Albion..
All right and honorable gentlemen. And lady, too. Will kindly try to restrain themselves. In derring-do. . As verbal hard graffiti flies. And echoes wall to wall.
And ride with us young bonny lass ---. with the angels of the night.. Crack wind clatter --- flesh rein bite on an out-size. unicorn.. Rough-shod winging sky blue flight on a cold wind.
Pick up my wings and fly. Into a constable sky.. Look down on the world and try. To make you out on the distant ground.. Lonely toy in a lost toy-town..
Along the coast road, by the headland. . The early lights of winter glow. . I'll pour a cup to you, my darling. . And raise it up, say, "Cheerio". . Related.
On Preston Platform. Do your soft shoe shuffle dance. Brush away the cigarette ash. That's falling down your pants. And then you sadly wonder. Does the nurse treat your old man.
Who would be a poor man a beggarman, a thief. if he had a rich man in his hand. Who would steal the candy from a laughing baby's mouth. if he could take it from the money man.
Pick up my wings and fly into a constable sky. Look down on the world and try to make you out. On the distant ground Lonely toy in a lost toy town. Suspended in spiral sounds, sounds of circular breathing.