No-one seems to take up the chase, and with the familiar faces fresh
in his mind he moves into a reconstruction of his old life, above
ground - Too much time was one thing he didn't need, so he used to
cut through it with a little speed. He was better off dead, than
slow in the head. His momma and poppa had taken a ride on his back,
so he left very quickly to join The Pack.


I see faces and traces of home back in New York City -
So you think I'm a tough kid? Is that what you heard?
Well I like to see some action and it gets into my blood.
The call me the trail blazer - Rael - electric razor
I'm the pitcher in the chain gang, we don't believe in pain
'cos we're only as strong, yes we're only as strong,
as the weakest link in the chain.


Only after a spell in Pontiac reformatory was he given any respect in
the gang.


Let me out of Pontiac when I was just seventeen,
I had to get it out of me, if you know what I mean, what I mean.

You say I must be crazy, 'cos I don't care who I hit, who I hit.
But I know it's me that's hitting out and I'm, I'm not full of shit.
I don't care who I hurt, I don't care who I do wrong.
This is your mess I'm stuck in, I really don't belong.
When I take out my bottle, filled up high with gasoline,
You can tell by the night fires where Rael has been, has been.


Now, walking back home after a raid, he was cuddling a sleeping porcupine.

That night he pictured the removal of his hairy heart and to the accompaniment
of very romantic music he watched it being shaved smooth by an anonymous
stainless steel razor.


As I cuddled the porcupine
He said I had none to blame, but me.
Held my heart, deep in hair,
Time to shave, shave it off, it off.
No time for romantic escape,
When your fluffy heart is ready for rape. No!
Off we go...

Your sitting in your comfort you don't believe I'm real,
You cannot buy protection from the way that I feel.
Your progressive hypocrites hand out their trash,
But it was mine in the first place, so I'll burn it to ash.
And I've tasted all the strongest meats,
And laid them down in coloured sheets (laid them down in coloured
sheets).
Who needs illusion of love and affection
When you're out walking the streets with your mainline connection?
connection.

As I cuddled the porcupine
He said I had none to blame, but me.
Held my heart, deep in hair.
Time to shave, shave it off, it off.
No time for romantic escape,
When your fluffy heart is ready for rape. No!

Big Jim Cooley commanded respect, whatever he wanted he could get.
The badge on his waistcoat shone in the sun.
It ain't no lie that Big Jim was feared by everyone.

In the saloon one evening Big took a bet
with a rancher whose name I forget.
He wanted a herd taken over the plain,
and he called Jim `yellow', he'll never do that again.

He got mad!
He threw his badge on the floor and walked out,
he's gonna give it a try, he left no doubt.

"Must be mad, he must be mad"!
The people wished him well, and good luck.
"Well I don't need it"! He laughed,
got on his horse and rode away.

Out on the trail, Jim 'n' his crew of five
were trying their best to keep the cattle alive.
The weather was hard, but so were the men,
Though I don't think even Big will try this trip again.

His horses were edgy, sensing trouble ahead,
but the trouble didn't start until the men were in bed
A-whooping and a-hollering, flashing their knives,
Big and his men were jumped by an all-star Indian tribe.

He was scared, Big Jim was scared
Alive, they called him lucky, but not today.
Cos he died like all good cowboys with his boots on next to his men.

Big Jim, he still won't lie down,
for him the bet is still on.
Some say he rides there, cursing still.
Some say they've seen him.

Taken from a news story concerning two rival gangs fighting over East-End Protection rights.

Along the Forest Road, there's hundreds of cars - luxury cars.
Each has got its load of convertible bars, cutlery cars - superscars!
For today is the day when they sort it out, sort it out,
      'cos they disagree on a gangland boundary.
      They disagree on a gangland boundary.

There's Willy Wright and his boys -
   one helluva noise, that's Billy's boys!
With fully-fashioned mugs, that's Little John's thugs,
   the Barking Slugs - supersmugs!
For today is the day when they sort it out, sort it out,
      yes these Christian soldiers fight to protect the poor.
      East end heroes got to score in...

            the Battle of Epping Forest,
            yes it's the Battle of Epping Forest,
            right outside your door.
            You ain't seen nothing like it.
            No, you ain't seen nothing like it,
            not since the Civil War.

      Coming over the hill are the boys of Bill,
      and Johnny's lads stand very still.
      With the thumpire's shout, they all start to clout
      - there's no guns in this gentleman's bout.
      Georgie moves in on the outside left
      with a chain flying round his head;
      and Harold Demure, from Art Literature,
      nips up the nearest tree.
                    (Here come the cavalry!)

      Amidst the battle roar,
      accountants keep the score: 10-4.
      They've never been alone, after getting a radiophone.
      The bluebells are ringing for Sweetmeal Sam, real ham,
      handing out bread and jam just like any picnic.

It's 5-4 on William Wright; he made his pile on Derby night.
When Billy was a kid, walking the streets,
   the other kids hid - so they did!
And now, after working hard in security trade, he's got it made.
      The shops that need aid are those that haven't paid.

"I do my double-show quick!" said Mick the Prick, fresh out the nick.
"I sell cheap holiday. The minute they leave,
   then a visit I pay - and does it pay!"
And his friend, Liquid Len by name,
   of Wine, Women and Wandsworth fame,
      said "I'm breaking the legs of the bastard that got me framed!"

They called me the Reverend when I entered the Church unstained;
my employers have changed but the name has remained.
      It all began when I went on a tour,
      hoping to find some furniture.
      I followed a sign - it said "Beautiful Chest".
      It led to a lady who showed me her best.
      She was taken by surprise when I quickly closed my eyes.
      So she rang the bell, and quick as hell
      Bob the Nob came out on his job
      to see what the trouble was.
      "Louise, is the Reverend hard to please?"
      "You're telling me!"
      "Perhaps, sir, if it's not too late.
      we could interest you in our old-fashioned Staffordshire plate?"
"Oh no, not me, I'm a man of repute."
But the Devil caught hold of my soul and a voice called out "Shoot!"

      To save my steeple, I visited people;
      for this I'd gone when I met Little John.
      His name came, I understood,
      when the judge said "You're a robbing hood."
      He told me of his strange foundation,
      conceived on sight of the Woodstock nation;
      he'd had to hide his reputation.
      When poor, 'twas salvation from door to door.
      But now, with a pin-up guru every week,
      it's Love, Peace & Truth Incorporated for all who seek.

He employed me as a karma-ma-mechanic, with overall charms.
His hands were then fit to receive, receive alms.
That's why we're in

            the Battle of Epping Forest,
            yes it's the Battle of Epping Forest,
            right outside your door.
            We guard your souls for peanuts,
            and we guard your shops and houses
            for just a little more.

      In with a left hook is the Bethnal Green Butcher,
      but he's countered on the right by Mick's chain-gang fight,
      and Liquid Len, with his smashed bottle men,
      is lobbing Bob the Nob across the gob.
      With his kisser in a mess, Bob seems under stress,
      but Jones the Jug hits Len right in the mug;
      and Harold Demure, who's still not quite sure,
      fires acorns from out of his sling.
                    (Here come the cavalry!)

      Up, up above the crowd,
      inside their Silver Cloud, done proud,
      the bold and brazen brass, seen darkly through the glass.
      The butler's got jam on his Rolls; Roy doles out the lot,
      with tea from a silver pot just like any picnic.

Along the Forest Road, it's the end of the day
   and the Clouds roll away.
Each has got its load - they'll come out for the count
   at the break-in of day.
When the limos return for their final review, it's all thru'
- all they can see is the morning goo.
"There's no-one left alive - must be draw."
So the Blackcap Barons toss a coin to settle the score.

I held the book so tightly in my hands,
I saw your picture, heard you call my name
There was something strange, I could not look away
I wanted to be there, I wanted to go

You gave me no warning
You gave no reason
But I was with you
Right by your side
Just give me the strength, and I will help you
And they can try their hardest, cos they don't frighten me

It is written in the book

It is hotter than I've known before, but I feel so cold, and I don't
know why
But if the fire within your heart can beat the storm
Then I really believe, you could make it right

Ooh the time has come now
We must show our feelings
But I'm looking right through you
And your heart is empty

Whatever happened to you it's too late to change now
There's nowhere you can run to, no place to hide
Ah you let me down!

...but wait a minute, I don't understand
It's getting stronger, so grab my hand
Don't wanna leave you, don't wanna go
But I'm losing all control
Can't you see me? I'm slipping away
I can only stay if you've the will to keep me here

It is written in the book

Oh so many times since I've read those words
Just waiting to see you, can you see me?

Stepping out the back way
Hoping nobody sees
Feeling can be easy
Think how I feel

What will can you say?
What will you do?
Why can't you see?
It's yourself I love

Don't you know I'm not asking
You must have made up your mind
Is it worth the pain you're causing
To those you're leaving behind

What will you say?
What will you do?
Why can't you see?
It's yourself I love

Don't you know I'd like some answers
You could give me a call
I hardly know the reason
And I really feel no good at all

Where will you go?
Where will you be?
Where can I try?
It's yourself I love

Dark and grey, an English film, the Wednesday Play
We always watch the Queen on Christmas Day
Won't you stay?

Though your eyes see shipwrecked sailors you're still dry
The outlook's fine though Wales might have some rain
Saved again.

Let's skip the news boy (I'll make some tea)
The Arabs and the Jews boy (too much for me)
They get me confused boy (puts me off to sleep)
And the thing I hate - Oh Lord!
Is staying up late, to watch some debate, on some nation's fate.

Hypnotised by Batman, Tarzan, still surprised!
You've won the West in time to be our guest
Name your prize!

Drop of wine, a glass of beer dear what's the time?
The grime on the Tyne is mine all mine all mine
Five past nine.

Blood on the rooftops - Venice in the Spring
Streets of San Francisco - a word from Peking
The trouble was started - by a young Errol Flynn
Better in my day - Oh Lord!
For when we got bored, we'd have a world war, happy but poor

So let's skip the news boy (I'll go make that tea)
Blood on the rooftops (too much for me)
When old Mother Goose stops - they're out for 23
Then the rain at Lords stopped play
Seems Helen of Troy has found a new face again.

   --- instrumental ---

The moment of impact bursts through the silence and in a roar of sound,
the final second is prolonged in a world of echoes as if the concrete
and clay of Broadway itself was reliving its memories. The last great
march past. Newsman stands limp as a whimper as audience and event are
locked as one. Bing Crosby coos "You don't have to feel pain to sing
the blues, you don't have to holla - you don't feel a thing in your
dollar collar." Martin Luther King cries "Everybody Sing!" and rings
the grand old liberty bell. Leary, weary of his prison cell, walks on
heaven, talks on hell. J.F.K. gives the O.K. to shoot us, sipping Orange
Julius and Lemon Brutus. Bare breasted cowboy double decks the triple
champion. Who needs Medicare and the 35c flat rate fare, when Fred
Astaire and Ginger Rogers are dancing through the air? From Broadway
Melody stereotypes the band returns to 'Stars and Stripes' bringing
a tear to the moonshiner, who's been pouring out his spirit from the
illegal still. The pawn broker clears the noisy till and clutches his
lucky dollar bill.


Echoes of the Broadway Everglades,
With her mythical madonnas still walking in their shades:
Lenny Bruce, declares a truce and plays his other hand.
Marshall Mcluhan, casual viewin', head buried in the sand.
Sirens on the rooftops wailing, but there's no ship sailing.
Groucho, with his movies trailing, stands alone with his punchline
failing.
Klu Klux Klan serve hot soul food and the band plays 'In the Mood'
The cheerleader waves her cyanide wand, there's a smell of
                      peach blossom and bitter almonde.
Caryl Chessman sniffs the air and leads the parade, he knows
                     in a scent, you can bottle all you made.
There's Howard Hughes in blue suede shoes, smiling at the
               majorettes smoking Winston Cigarettes.
And as the song and dance begins, the children play at home
                           with needles; needles and pins.


Then the blackout.

???

The warming sun, the cooling rain,
The snowflake drifting on the breath of the breeze,
The lightning bolt that frees the sky for you
Yet only eagles seem to pass on through.
The words of love, the cries of hate,
And the man in the moon who seduced you
Then finally loosed you.

You climbed upon a burning rope to escape the mob below,
But you had put the flaming out so that others could not follow,
To be out of the bounds and the barks of those who do not wish you well.

You must blaze a trail of your own, unknown, alone,
But keep in mind
Don't live today for tomorrow like you were immortal.
The only survivors on this world of ours are
The warming sun, the cooling rain,
The snowflake drifting on the breath of the breeze,
The lightning bolt that frees the sky for you
Yet only eagles seem to pass on through.
The words of love, the cries of hate,
And the man in the moon who seduced you
Then finally loosed you.

You're old and disillusioned now as you realise at last,
That all all you have accomplished here will have soon all turned to
dust.
You dream of a future after life, well that's as maybe, I don't know.
But you can't take what you left behind, you're all alone.
So keep in mind
Don't live today for tomorrow like you were immortal.
The only survivors on this world of ours are
The warming sun, the cooling rain,
The snowflake drifting on the breath of the breeze,
The lightning bolt that frees the sky for you
Yet only eagles seem to pass on through.
The words of love, the cries of hate,
And the man in the moon...