England - Garden Shed (UK, 1977)

Midnight Madness

Somebody told me Mr Pickett had possession of a pocket watch of gold
And to who so was the owner of gave immortality.
What a way to be ... ... knowing that this rumour was provoking my mind

You can't stay here, so hide your fear, and disappear
That's when you're: Caught in the myth of midnight madness,
its the only way you can behold the fate of old man time

Something inside me said that many wouldn't stop at the clock shop that night
I don't know who so long ago had left the door ajar,
but finding my way inward from the outside seemed a good idea at the time

Extraordinaire ! There's no one there.
You needn't care because you're:

Caught in the myth of midnight madness,
and the fairy-light moonshine opens the gate to old man time (Gold-man time ? One more time ?)

Outside the candle may flicker, inside the flame may grow on

The door is open. I pull down the blind.
My timepiece is ticking, but hasn't yet chimed.
Dark gloom. The smell of the room
A mystic perception that magic will bloom

I lift my head ... but only to find
that each clock in turn
emits a dim light...
in the shape Time on time
armed with vision.
What precision !
Walking in the shape

... of a face !

Who are you ? Can you see me ?
We are creatures of a timeless world in which we use the time so as to hide away in
Each of us did come here just like you, and as you watch us you will join us too !

I may be a gambler at poker or whist, but what sort of rumour could lead me to this ?
To extend my age, may warrant a deal; but a life on the mantelpiece doesn't appeal
Guarding my ears from this hypnotic tick, I won't be the joker completing this trick
When the words rhyme... that's a sure sign to call on time !

All Alone (Introducing)

All alone They've left me here alone
No one here to keep me company
Can't you see that it's true, when I'm lonely, sad, and blue,
nothing I do seems right

It's funny when you know there's nowhere else to go
and all I wanna do is cry

All alone they've left me here alone,
left me here alone to cry.

Three Piece Suite

"Follow me round" --Is the cry of the mare with each pull of the plough
Rhythmic sound in the swing of the chains that are dragging her down
And the morning call of the wind brings the sun from afar

"Take me up high" --In the voice of the lark singing high in the sky
Wandering eye of the farmer below --is the only reply
And the changing relief of the land is exposed to the light

The break of dawn is changed by the presence of a stream
Weaving its path through a bed of green
The windows of the forest bring very little light
The sound of river water flowing by

Although the woods may seem bereft of any life
No man can see of sin or strife
The creatures of the forest receiving their first light
Come out and join the woodland company

Clinging into time of disentangled broken vine
Come show me this is mine to breath and hold
Throughout abandoned hill a stillness set unreal
By image not by two you grew

Summer day will shine

Carry on your way decide at which you want to play
Sentimental reason, con, or game ?
To take you further on would only spoil the fun
Can't you feel it higher, growing, never knowing ?

Sometimes a laugh in a show that's cold
When the legend is burning yet not quite sold
To the man in the middle --it's only a riddle come out of a local rag

When they hand you a thing and expect you to sing
To the tune of The Groom and his Flying Balloon
While the only resort is the flu that you caught
while preparing a dish for someone called En Bleu (Cordon Bleu)

Soak up the flakes of an emptying bowl and go
Down river, down reverse, downing in one below
Hot on the trail let the wind fill the sail and be leaving from where you are

Left to uncover a scene unseen
Though the wing of the plover is seldom keen
I may open my hands when the garden expands,
taking part with an individuality

Leg after leg in the line surround
All are touching the toes of adjacent ground
How can nature resist to make any seed twist (aniseed twist)
move along, run a long long way ?

So you turn and resist from this windy place
Oh but is it from me that you hide your face ?
I am now to return to my natural pace
and remember today as I walk through my way
But the farmer forlorn
And the break of dawn will go fading, fading away.

Pariffinalea

Yawning, "Good Morning", polluting the air,
he'll follow down where the peli-can go
Whitechapel Monday in mythical flair;
only one-way to the puppet show

With a pound in, (X4) With a pound in his pocket that he found in (X2) the road, With a pounding, up, down, pounding upside down he'll win the show

Lying in the roadside never to be owed
(Lying in the roadside never too B. O.'d)

Stop, do the hop when your pennants are down,
show me the way to the vegetable row
Gardens that blossom in pink paraffin
where I can fly my bal-loony bin

With a pound in, (X4) With a pound in his pocket that he found in (X2) the road, With a pounding, up, down, pounding upside down he'll win the show

Lying in the roadside never to be owed
(Lying in the roadside never too B. O.'d)

(Middle Eight)

Rumba in tumbler and tambour-in-tum,
hopping a tram Metropoli-tango
Triumphing daily with splendid array.
Public performing at Pimlico

How astounding ! No-one ever helped him cross the road

Yellow

To see the morning sunrise every day I care not where
The moments stop at nothing throughout the sweetness in the air
In Springtime, I feel like crying
A new year is born

Rolling one-another never going home to care
Chasing over hillside, knowing that we'll take our share
Care not. Don't hurry.
We'll spend all our worries together alone
Fortunes are simple.
Rely on the dawn alone

Taking one-another sharing out our lover's game
Feeling rather self-sure knowing that it's just a game
Reaching out to fall
And catch the day before the night

Poisoned Youth

(based on 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' by Oscar Wilde, 1891)
Capture youth as youth retains its place Thought the painter as he looked upon his face

To taste all wondrous gift ... save no expense
My feet to take all paths ... filled rich incense
To breathe the pleasures of the earth ... ... discarding nothing.

His passion he gave to an actress.
Played Imogen and Juliet --she was perfect
Silk thread curls on cool white ivory skin.
A goddess so distant had enraptured him

The love that I found on theatre's stage is dead
This prince so charming leads my heart instead
But no, to me you are the loves you've played.
If fantasy is dead, the age decays

Parting poison make up falling tears like rain
The wilting helpless snowflake melts inside its grave
Reflected conscience slips away, away, ... away

A dream of form in days of thought.
My lost creation rich restored
we'll paint your form with every care and grace

You are perfect in everything --as a flower blooms in Spring,
releasing madness from within

Beneath this work our very souls do hide.
Me of my brush, you of your youth are tied ... to canvas forever.
Fading never

But evil thoughts turn into twisted life
resounding through his years
But now the portrait sits and now those scarlet lips have suffered changes

Does my eye speak the truth ? My wondrous youth

No Winter marred his face or stained the flower-like bloom of his skin
through Summer's vine.
But wine like fragrance it fades and it dies
He gazed in the glass and sighed ...his thoughts drifted by...

Peter Pan on roof tops dancing
ever soaked in youth
Adonis plays innocence in
unrevealéd truth How I wish that I could
steal my youth
And the picture bare
the age uncouth

My soul to art I would then betroth --- my body left alive unmoved

I can stay youthful for all of my life and the picture I'll keep from the world's peering eyes
My sins it will hold, its face will grow old,
and all the people will know not why my face is young till the day that I die

The gates of the seasons they open and close
and the pathways perfection a faltered repose
An age elf slips free ascending this tree,
he sneaks up with ease outstretched arms reaching high,
so small but so vital his glistening smile

The face as with fever is stricken.
A red bead of dew sickly thickens
Scorching his eyesight the charred wrinkled skin,
his mirror of conscience that burdens the sins

"Heaven, helpless, drowned confusion" -----
A satyr looks down from the frame, ----
illusion

The blade shines brightly it fills his fingers with hate
A veil of darkness descends it bends to his feet
A life of lust, mistrust decreasing, visions vanished, stripped unseen

Does the eye speak the truth ? His wondrous youth...