Conquistador
(Brooker / Reid)

Conquistador your stallion stands
in need of company
and like some angel's haloed brow
you reek of purity
I see your armour-plated breast
has long since lost its sheen
and in your death mask face
there are no signs which can be seen

And though I hoped for something to find
I could see no maze to unwind

Conquistador a vulture sits
upon your silver shield
and in your rusty scabbard now
the sand has taken seed
and though your jewel-encrusted blade
has not been plundered still
the sea has washed across your face
and taken of its fill

And though I hoped for something to find
I could see no maze to unwind

Conquistador there is no time
I must pay my respect
and though I came to jeer at you
I leave now with regret
and as the gloom begins to fall
I see there is no, only all
and though you came with sword held high
you did not conquer, only die

And though I hoped for something to find
I could see no maze to unwind

She Wandered Through The Garden Fence
(Brooker / Reid)

She wandered through the garden fence
and said, 'I've brought at great expense
a potion guaranteed to bring
relief from all your suffering.'
And though I said, 'You don't exist,'
she grasped me firmly by the wrist
and threw me down upon my back
and strapped me to her torture rack
And, without further argument
I found my mind was also bent
upon a course so devious
it only made my torment worse

She said, 'I see you cannot speak
is it your voice that is too weak?
Is it your tongue that is to blame?
Maybe you cannot speak for shame.
Or has your brain been idle too,
and now it will not think for you?'
I hastened to make my reply
but found that I could only lie
And like a fool I believed myself
and thought I was somebody else
But she could see what I was then
and left me on my own again

Something Following Me
(Brooker / Reid)

While standing at the junction on 42nd Street
I idly kick a pebble lying near my feet
I hear a weird noise, take a look up and down
The cause of the commotion is right there on the ground
Imagine my surprise, thought I'd left it at home
but there's no doubt about it, it's my own tombstone

I went into a shop, and bought a loaf of bread
I sank my teeth into it, thought I'd bust my head
I dashed to the dentist, said, 'I've got an awful pain!'
The man looks in my mouth and screams, 'This boy is insane!'
Imagine my surprise, thought I'd left it at home
but there's a lump in my mouth of my own tombstone

I went to see a movie, got the only empty seat
I tried to stretch out in it, something blocking my feet
Finally the lights came up, and I could clearly see
a slab of engraved marble, just staring up at me
Imagine my surprise, thought I'd left it at home
but there's no doubt I'm sitting on my own tombstone

Mabel
(Brooker / Reid)

Don't eat green meat it ain't good for you
you know it killed your brother, killed your sister too
even fresh fried chicken on new-mown sand
can't beat red beans eaten outa your hand

Oh Mabel, Mabel! You know I love you gal but I'm not able
Mabel, oh Mabel, please get off the kitchen table

Don't slice no onions, don't peel no grape
dream about banana slice nor sniff around short cake
and if on a winter's day you find your sundial's wrong
you'll know the weather is what's brought it on

Oh Mabel, Mabel! You know I love you gal but I'm not able
Mabel, oh Mabel, please get off the kitchen table

Put the peas in the pot, put the pot on the hot
In the cellar lies my wife, in my wife there's a knife
so tote that hammer, lift that pick
and banish inhibition with a pogo stick

Oh Mabel, Mabel! You know I love you gal but I'm not able
Mabel, oh Mabel, please get off the kitchen table

Cerdes (Outside The Gates Of)

(Brooker / Reid)

Outside the gates of Cerdes sits the two-pronged unicorn
who plays at relaxation time a rhinestone flugelhorn
whilst mermaids lace carnations into wreaths for ailing whales
and Neptune dances hornpipes while Salome sheds her veils

Phallus Phil tries peddling his pewter painted pot
but Sousa Sam can only hear the screams of Peep the sot
who only sips his creme de menthe from terra cotta cups
and exhales menthol scented breath whilst spewing verbiage up

Down technical blind alleys live the wraiths of former dreams
And Greeps who often crossed them are no longer what they seem
And even Christian Scientists can but display marble plaques
Which only retell legends whilst my eyes reach out for facts
Yeah, my eyes reach out for facts

A Christmas Camel
(Brooker / Reid)

My amazon six-triggered bride
now searching for a place to hide
still sees the truth quite easily
but shrouds all else in mystery
while madmen in top hats and tails
impale themselves on six-inch nails
and some Arabian also-ran
impersonates a watering can

Some Santa Claus-like face of note
entreats my ears to set afloat
my feeble sick and weary brain
and I am overcome with shame
and hide inside my overcoat
and hurriedly begin to quote
while some Arabian sheikh most grand
impersonates a hot-dog stand

The Red Cross ambulance outside
can only mean that I must hide
'til dusk and finally the night
when I will make a hasty flight
across the sea and far away
to where the weary exiles stay
and some Arabian oil-well
impersonates a padded cell

Kaleidoscope
(Brooker / Reid)

Jostle, hassle, elbow bustle
in a swirling rainbow tussle
Caught and frozen, broken sheen
now unites for one brief scene

Lonely in the dark I grope
the key's in my kaleidoscope

Confused faces change their places
take up stances, exchange glances
Lost in multicoloured hues
there is no whole which I can choose

Lonely in the dark I grope
the key's in my kaleidoscope

In one face, one moment's fusion
Realise the new illusion
Clutching fingers break the puzzle
jostle, hassle, elbow bustle

Still out in the dark I grope
the key's in my kaleidoscope

Salad Days (Are Here Again)
(Brooker / Reid)

You come to me at midnight and say, 'It's dark in here.'
You know you robbed me of my sight, and light is what I fear
I tell you that I can not see but you persist in showing me
those bangles that I paid for long ago

And though my face is smiling I'm really feeling low
and though you say you're with me I know that it's not so

Your skin crawls up an octave, your teeth have lost their gleam
The peaches snuggle closer down into the clotted cream
and for some unknown reason my watch begins to chime
and though I beg and plead with you, you tell me it's not time

And though my face is smiling I'm really feeling low
and though you say you're with me I know that it's not so

The sun seeps through the window to see if we're still dead
to try to throw some light upon the gloom around our bed
At quarter past the doorbell rings, the water faucet drips and sings
and still my reason will not rhyme, and still you tell me it's not time

And though my face is smiling I'm really feeling low
and though you say you're with me I know that it's not so
You really know that it's not so

Good Captain Clack
(Brooker / Reid)

Still scowling black
good Captain Clack
must eat his humble pie
His bed is made
the colours fade
his eyes once wet are dry

The naked muse
who sits and chews
tobacco off a tree
removes his shoes
gives way to booze
and searches endlessly

See the naked jumberlack
sip his aphrodisiac
Cotton-picking farmers three
Though I lost my weather vane
and of sense I have one grain
I'm content sipping lemon tea

Quite Rightly So
(Brooker / Fisher / Reid)

For you (whose eyes were opened wide whilst mine refused to see)
I'm sore in need of saving grace. Be kind and humour me
I'm lost amidst a sea of wheat
where people speak but seldom meet
And grief and laughter, strange but true
Although they die, they seldom cry

An ode by any other name I know might read more sweet
Perhaps the sun will never shine upon my field of wheat
But still in closing, let me say
for those too sick, too sick to see
though nothing shows, yes, someone knows
I wish that one was me

Shine on Brightly
(Brooker / Reid)

My Prussian-blue electric clock's
alarm bell rings, it will not stop
and I can see no end in sight
and search in vain by candlelight
for some long road that goes nowhere
for some signpost that is not there
And even my befuddled brain
is shining brightly, quite insane

The chandelier is in full swing
as gifts for me the three kings bring
of myrrh and frankincense, I'm told,
and fat old Buddhas carved in gold
And though it seems they smile with glee
I know in truth they envy me
and watch as my befuddled brain
shines on brightly quite insane

Above all else confusion reigns
And though I ask no-one explains
My eunuch friend has been and gone
He said that I must soldier on
And though the Ferris wheel spins round
my tongue it seems has run aground
and croaks as my befuddled brain
shines on brightly, quite insane

Skip Softly (My Moonbeams)
(Brooker / Reid)

Skip softly, my moonbeams, avoid being seen
Pretend that perhaps you are part of a dream
which (seen by some other such person as me)
would only glow smiling and nod and agree

Skip softly, my moonbeams, for I have heard tell
that the stairs up to heaven lead straight down to hell
that pride is the last thing which comes before fall
I'd as soon talk to you as make love to a wall

Wish me Well
(Brooker / Reid)

You know I caught a glimpse, thought I understood
but I left it all far behind
Now if I'd known then what I know now
do you think I would've been so blind?
Gonna take myself to the wishing well
I'm gonna make myself one last wish
and if you follow me there, better bring what you've found
'cause my night has come and I'm going down

Gonna buy myself a big rocking chair
and when I'm sitting in that, then no-one will peek
And my friends will come, they'll see what I'm suffering from
How I wish, how I wish I could rock myself to sleep
Gonna take myself to the wishing well
gonna make myself one last wish
If you follow me there, better bring what you've found
'cause my night has come and I'm going down

Rambling On
(Brooker / Reid)

Our local picture house was showing a Batman movie
You see this guy fly up in the sky, thought to myself, 'Why shouldn't I?'
So I bought a pair of wings, went up upon a wall
I was about to jump into the air when a guy from the street called
He said, 'Hey wait a minute! Don't you realise the danger?
What do you think you are, some kind of angel?'

I considered for a minute, realised he spoke the truth.
For the barbells on my eyelids only emphasised my youth
and the sawdust in my plimsolls means the same to him as me
But that's neither here nor further, so I spoke considerately
'Now if you understand just what I'm trying to say,
whatever you do, don't grin, you'll give the game away!'

By now a crowd had gathered and it seemed that all was lost
In the anger of the moment I had diced with death and lost
It seemed to me the time was right so I burst into song
In the anger of the moment the crowd began to sing along
I could not see a way out of this predicament
Just then a breeze came through the trees and up in the air I went

I must have flown a mile, or maybe it was eight
Thought to myself pretty soon I'd hit the Golden Gates
Just then a passing bird for no reason I could see
took a peck at my wings and that was the end of me
I went down, hit the ground faster than the speed of sound
Luckily I broke no bones only tore my underclothes

Magdalene
(Brooker / Reid)

Though I know the night has fallen and the sun's sailed out to sea
I will wait here for the band to play the trumpet voluntary
And with one foot on the seashore and the other in the sand
I will stand here plaiting daisies whilst you play the piano-grand

Caprice, your bugle blew away the cobwebs from my ears
and for once I stood quite naked. Unashamed, I wept the tears
which I tried to hide inside myself from me, I mean from you
but the shame I found too painful and the pain it only grew

Magdalene, my Regal Zonophone

In Held 'Twas In I
(Brooker / Fisher / Reid)

Glimpses of Nirvana

In the darkness of the night, only occasionally relieved by glimpses of Nirvana as seen through other people's windows, wallowing in a morass of self-despair made only more painful by the knowledge that all I am is of my own making ...

When everything around me, even the kitchen ceiling, has collapsed and crumbled without warning. And I am left, standing alive and well, looking up and wondering why and wherefore.

At a time like this, which exists maybe only for me, but is nonetheless real, if I can communicate, and in the telling and the bearing of my soul anything is gained, even though the words which I use are pretentious and make you cringe with embarrassment, let me remind you of the pilgrim who asked for an audience with the Dalai Lama.

He was told he must first spend five years in contemplation. After the five years, he was ushered into the Dalai Lama's presence, who said, 'Well, my son, what do you wish to know?' So the pilgrim said, 'I wish to know the meaning of life, father.'

And the Dalai Lama smiled and said, 'Well my son, life is like a beanstalk, isn't it?'

Held close by that which some despise
which some call fake, and others lies
And somewhat small
for one so tall
a doubting Thomas who would be?
It's written plain for all to see
for one who I am with no more
it's hard at times, it's awful raw

They say that Jesus healed the sick and helped the poor
and those unsure
believed his eyes
- a strange disguise
Still write it down, it might be read
nothing's better left unsaid
only sometimes, still no doubt
it's hard to see, it all works out

'Twas Tea-time at the Circus

'Twas tea-time at the circus: King Jimi, he was there
Through hoops he skipped, high wires he tripped, and all the while the glare
of the aching, baking spotlight beat down upon his cloak
and though the crowd clapped furiously they could not see the joke

'Twas tea-time at the circus, though some might not agree
as jugglers danced, and horses pranced and clowns clowned endlessly
But trunk to tail the elephants quite silent, never spoke
and though the crowd clapped desperately they could not see the joke

In the Autumn of My Madness

In the autumn of my madness when my hair is turning grey
for the milk has finally curdled and I've nothing left to say
When all my thoughts are spoken (save my last departing birds)
bring all my friends unto me and I'll strangle them with words

In the autumn of my madness which in coming won't be long
for the nights are now much darker and the daylight's not so strong
and the things which I believed in are no longer quite enough
for the knowing is much harder and the going's getting rough

Look to Your Soul

I know if I'd been wiser this would never have occurred
but I wallowed in my blindness so it's plain that I deserve
for the sin of self-indulgence when the truth was writ quite clear
I must spend my life amongst the dead who spend their lives in fear
of a death that they're not sure of, of a life they can't control
It's all so simple really if you just look to your soul

Some say that I'm a wise man, some think that I'm a fool
It doesn't matter either way: I'll be a wise man's fool
For the lesson lies in learning and by teaching I'll be taught
for there's nothing hidden anywhere, it's all there to be sought
And so if you know anything look closely at the time
at others who remain untrue and don't commit that crime

Vissza/Back

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