El Fugitivö

What ya gonna do when the money runs out? What you gonna do when they come for the rent? What you gonna do to find something to eat? What ya gonna do when the money runs out?

As the music bursts its banks And you drive this one home There’s no doubt to your talent But your ears appear closed I wanted to meet you But it was all about you So the feeling turned sour And it all fell through A chance encounter On a street walking by Left me wondering  Who you were and why You wanted to be here But your family’s far away Life is so short And you’re throwing it away It’s blowing a gale Right up on the tops But it’s in the Lee That’s where it stops

I can’t warm up And I can’t cool down The last six months  have turned  me upside down

There can be no light without darkness No laughter without tears No love without loss And no safety without fears No smiles without frowns And no truth without lies No depth without shallows No shadows without blue skies No rainbow without the rain No warmth without the sun No happiness without you No freedom without a gun

I can’t see her family Or take the kids on a getaway Work’s down to a couple of emails flicked out at midday I’ll treat the lockdown as my personal holiday

So it’s farewell to the Geezer Farewell my faithful friend You stuck with me through it all  But you turned on me in the end

At every dawn and every dimming They demand us to come to the fray Commands bestowed by angels Explained by those that obey Logic that knows no reason Rules that know of no truth Stories passed down through the ages By those that knew of no youth

Oh it’s time to go and I’m all packed up And I can’t see the wood for the trees But the girls around aren’t happy with my plan to leave

I am not a humanist.  That we are in control is an illusion  brought on by the morphine drip of everyday life True beauty in this world is nothing to do with us Think. We are done for. 

You like to use them great big words You like to make it fancy You’d like for us all to be upon our bended knee

First he comes bearing amazing news Of a world you can barely believe Where all live in bliss and happiness And it’s easy just so easy They’re just lies, they’re just lies

If I were a sailor Like my grandpa Joe I’d sail the ocean winds And to the whole world go

Brexit. No shit. Who knew it? Liars who flew it, sold it and blew it Halfwits who bought the story from bandits Brexit. Really.. Was it worth it?

Even if it’s HIGH FIDELITY Even IF it’s low credibility Even WITH no sensibility We’ll still choose YOU We’ll STILL choose you

Oh Charlie he wants for some trouble He thinks it’ll make me a man But the bruises I hide feel different inside And leave me frightened and sad I’m on my last legs in the last chance saloon Feel the fear well up - no place to go

We were talking Last night while on the phone About the worry We both feel when we’re alone

Still falling.. still falling it seems like forever Still falling.. still falling the blacker the better It’s dangerous and dark so you’ll never say never A place of no return, the grimmer the better

When it’s all gone wrong When it takes so long When I don’t feel so strong I find my refuge in the sea

Lapping at the bow there’s a rhythm to the boat I look at M and smile as we both know A surface of oil with a vibrant blue deep below Sun sparkles into the deep, the deep deep deep

There was once an old man Who called An Cuiltheann home He gazes silent far ‘cross the sea Longing for his son to him come home

Once there was a boy Who dreamt of the stars Who hoped for the moon Who wanted to be true

It’s not the time you spend. It’s how you spend the time It’s not the words you use or how you make them rhyme It’s not the sentiment or if you do it just in time It’s not the time you spend - it’s how you spend the time

November is so far away That I can barely see So many steps still to take Before we can be free

Many shall try  and many shall fail to climb to their Helicon muse

When the sky is grey And the light is low And the people you see Are those you don’t know

What use is singing if you can’t hear the tune Your heart won’t let you anyway With a cold wind blowing the night rolls in You’re a lost boy and she’s going away

I’m a great poet I can always make a rhyme I can paint pictures in your head with words and stuff and do it in next to no time

The Barbican Centre is very distinctive arts centre in the City of London.  It uses a Brutalist architectural style which polarises opinion - personally I love it!

Well it’s quiet in the room Like they’ve just been told about the things that can happen when you get old

The Brooding Soldier is a memorial near Ypres for 2000 Canadian soldiers who were killed by the first German gas attacks on 22-24 April 1915.  It is a peaceful and sombre place that is very moving.

Standing silent row on row Thousands - as far as can be seen On duty, at Attention, never At Ease A breathtaking silence - forever.

Every night at 8pm they play the Last Post at the Menin Gate in Ypres.  

In Flanders fields poppies still blow Between the headstones, row on row That mark your place, and in the sky the larks, still bravely sing, and fly, Intently heard by the hushed crowd below

Financial markets are in precipitous decline and banks are up the wazoo This is when you hear the shout go out: “But what is the view of the moo?”

So here we go again As more continue to suffer You don’t solve the problem  Instead preferring to bluster Some nonsense about morals Or a moral high ground An absence of leadership you have never  bothered to have found We set the fires And stoked them to burn And now you sit back Preferring to lecture and refusing to learn Send in the troops  and bomb high from the skies No chance of sober heads That’s no surprise Don’t use the UN Or reach for a peace that is right It’s far more fun to throw fuel On a fire already alight Is this more about you I can’t help but think Your corrupt decisions Are selfish and stink You don’t believe in much And haven’t ever done much very well But reckon the best course of action Is to save yourself and send the rest of us to hell Of course you’ve left no chance  Of any discussion or debate Quick! Start another war So that it’s all far too late WE’RE GOING TO WAR You dim witted buffoon This will be a p...

Sweated and blooded but to no avail I’m searching for the light Can’t seem to find it in this thin air Urgently need to find what’s right A way forward? A way forward?

And I thought I saw the Lamb of God Standing alone and tall in the milk aisle But Susie said I was just a fraud She must be right as he had headphones in

Tall and slim with excellent taste in his clothes People notice when he walks past I suppose Apart from the constant whining he seems like a nice guy

The smell of old bleach and a boozy hard floor If life is a sickness then this place is the cure Soft tunes on the machine with lights dancing in fun We’re drinking, we’re drinking, And we’ll drink ‘till we’re done

So I thought I'd take some early shots of Wandsworth Common.   Nice patterns from the trees...

Last summer we did a quick 3 day trip to Paris.  I'd forgotten how wonderful that city is.  Here's a few of the best snaps... The Pantheon...  

I’m sitting down here, watching the rain polish the road Patterns in the dirt show where the water has flowed But Marie she is wondering when are we to get old

We decided to go to Cormayeur in Italy for a day's skiing.  The drive from Chamonix through the Mont Blanc tunnel was amazing.  Cormayeur is quite a large resort and we got a bit lost finding the lifts but a friendly bus driver decided to take pity on us, ignore his timetable and take us directly there! Cormayeur also has a telecabin, which is very photogenic!  Here's a couple of pics!

The Aiguille de Midi is an incredible double cable car ride from Chamonix.  It is over 3800m high and the views are fabulous!

A robber with a bag of loot Is being chased by the Plod down past the suet Both ignore a couple with lots of money Getting frisky down by the honey They’re too busy to notice the tin foil hat Worn by the paranoid part-time acrobat Swinging high above from aisle to aisle  Picking up shopping with grace and style

My life is spent wired to the screen and line Time spent off is no doubt thought a crime All you speak and think is kept for ever and a day A shrinking cage in which for you to safely play

Two thousand years ago in London a Roman built a temple to Mithras on the banks of the river Walbrook.  This year a beautiful new museum about this temple has just opened at the new Bloomberg building.  

Well... it's concert time again...  t his time we traipsed as far as North London to enjoy the Brickwork Lizards launching their fine new album at the Slaughtered Lamb.

The Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland is a world heritage site. Thousands upon thousands of hexagonal basalt pillars disappear into the sea and show the causeway where Finn MacCool was challenged to a race from Ireland to Scotland by the bad Scottish giant.   In the version of the legend that my Dad told me the rules of the race were clear - the first of the two giants to touch the Scottish coast would win the right to marry some beautiful female giant.  Both giants set off from Ireland at a furious pace but while running across the Irish sea the Scottish giant was clearly winning. Finn  was falling behind.  Finn knew he was going to lose and had to do something amazing to win!  In desperation in the last seconds of the race Finn decided to do something pretty radical - he chopped his hand off and threw it at the Scottish coast.  His hand flew past the Scottish giant and touched the coast first - he won the ra...