Like father like son
Not flesh nor fish nor bone
A red rag hangs from an open mouth.
Alive at both ends but a little dead in the middle,
A-tumbling and a-bumbling he will go.
All the King's horses and all the King's men
Could never put a smile on that face.

He's a sly one, he's a shy one
Wouldn't you be too.
Scared to be left all on his own.
Hasn't a, hasn't a friend to play with, the Ugly Duckling
The pressure on, the bubble will burst before our eyes.
All the while in perfect time
His tears are falling on the ground
BUT IF YOU DON'T STAND UP YOU DON'T STAND A CHANCE.

Go a little faster now, you might get there in time.

Mirror mirror on the wall,
His heart was broken long before he ever came to you.
Stop your tears from falling,
The trail they leave is very clear for all to see at night
                                       all to see at night.

In season, out of season
What's the difference when you don't know the reason.
In one hand bread, the other a stone.
The Hunter enters the forest.
All are not huntsmen who can blow the huntsman's horn
By the look of this one you've not got much to fear.

Here I am, I'm very fierce and frightening
Come to match my skill to yours.
Now listen here, listen to me, don't you run away now
I am a friend, I'd really like to play with you.
Making noises my little furry friend would make
I'll trick him, then I'll kick him into my sack.
You better watch out... You better watch out.

I've got you, I've got you, you'll never get away.

Walking home that night
The sack across my back, the sound of sobbing on my shoulder.
When suddenly it stopped,
I opened up the sack, all that I had
A pool of bubbles and tears - JUST A POOL OF TEARS.

All in all you are a very dying race
Placing trust upon a cruel world.
You never had the things you thought you should have had
And you'll not get them now,
And all the while in perfect time
Your tears are falling on the ground.


The Squonk is of a very retiring disposition and due to its ugliness, weeps constantly.
It is easy prey for hunters who simply follow a tear-stained trail. When cornered it
will dissolve itself into tears.

True or False?

He returns from his mixed-up memories to the passage he was previously
stuck in. This time he discovers a long carpeted corridor.

There is lambswool under my naked feet.
The wool is soft and warm,
- gives off some kind of heat.
A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed.
Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid.
The fleas cling to the golden fleece,
Hoping they'll find peace.
Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid.
There's no hiding in my memory.
There's no room to avoid.


The walls are painted in red ochre and are marked by strange insignia,
some looking like a bulls-eye, others of birds and boats. Further down
the corridor, he can see some people; all kneeling. With broken sighs
and murmurs they struggle, in their slow motion to move towards a
wooden door at the end. Having seen only the inanimate bodies in the
Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging, Rael rushes to talk to them.


The crawlers cover the floor in the red ochre corridor.
For my second sight of people, they've more lifeblood than before.
They're moving in time to a heavy wooden door,
Where the needle's eye is winking, closing in on the poor.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out."


"What's going on?" he cries to a muttering monk, who conceals a yawn and
replies "It's a long time yet before the dawn." A sphinx-like crawler
calls his name saying "Don't ask him, the monk is drunk. Each one of us
is trying to reach the top of the stairs, a way out will await us there."
Not asking how he can move freely, our hero goes boldly through the door.
Behind a table loaded with food, is a spiral staircase going up into the
ceiling.


There's only one direction in the faces that I see;
It's upward to the ceiling, where the chamber's said to be.
Like the forest fight for sunlight, that takes root in every tree.
They are pulled up by the magnet, believing they're free.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out."

Mild mannered supermen are held in kryptonite,
And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing
bright.
Through a door a harvest feast is lit by candlelight;
It's the bottom of a staircase that spirals out of sight.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out."

The porcelain mannikin with shattered skin fears attack.
The eager pack lift up their pitchers - they carry all they lack.
The liquid has congealed, which has seeped out through the crack,
And the tickler takes his stickleback.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
"We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out
We've got to get in to get out."

The streets were deserted though the police were alerted,
They considered the phone call a hoax.
Furtively glancing then jauntily prancing
The youth caught the guards unaware.

Slipping between them he ought to have seen then
The eyes and their owner so near.
With torch shining bright he strode on in the night
Till he came to the room with the safe.

"Hello son, I hope you're having fun."
"You've got it wrong Sir, I'm only the cleaner."
With that he fired, the other saying as he died,
"You've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever.

Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.

Picked up the diamonds and bundles of fivers
He pushed them well down in his sack.
But the alarm had been sounded, he was completely surrounded
But he had some more tricks up his sleeve.

"Come outside with your hands held high."
"You'll not get me alive Sir, I promise you that Sir."
With that he fired, the other saying as he died
"You've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever.

Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.
Robbery, assault and battery,
The felon and his felony.

"He's leaving via the roof, the bastard's got away.
God always fights on the side of the bad man."

"I've got clean away but I'll be back some day,
Just the combination will have changed.
Some day they'll catch me, to a chain they'll attach me,
Until that day I'll ride the old crime wave.

If they try to hold me for trial
I'll stay out of gaol by paying my bail
And after I'll go to the court of appeal saying
"You've done me wrong," it's the same old song forever."

Done me wrong - same old song - done me wrong.

Like the dust that settles all around me,
I must find a new home.
The ways and holes that used to give me shelter,
Are all as one to me now.
But I, I would search everywhere
Just to hear your call,
And walk upon stranger roads than this one
In a world I used to know before.
I miss you more.

Than the sun reflecting off my pillow,
Bringing the warmth of new life.
And the sounds that echoed all around me,
I caught a glimpse of in the night.
But now, now I've lost everything,
I give to you my soul.
The meaning of all that I believed before
Escapes me in this world of none, no thing, no one.

And I would search everywhere
Just to hear your call,
And walk upon stranger roads than this one
In a world I used to know before.
For now I've lost everything,
I give to you my soul.
The meaning of all that I believed before
Escapes me in this world of none,
I miss you more.

The path is clear
Though no eyes can see
The course laid down long before.
And so with gods and men
The sheep remain inside their pen,
Though many times they've seen the way to leave.

He rides majestic
Past homes of men
Who care not or gaze with joy,
To see reflected there
The trees, the sky, the lily fair,
The scene of death is lying just below.

The mountain cuts off the town from view,
Like a cancer growth is removed by skill.
Let it be revealed.
A waterfall, his madrigal.
An inland sea, his symphony.

Undinal songs
Urge the sailors on
Till lured by sirens' cry.

Now as the river dissolves in sea,
So Neptune has claimed another soul.
And so with gods and men
The sheep remain inside their pen,
Until the Shepherd leads his flock away.

The sands of time were eroded by
The river of constant change.

It's one o'clock and time for lunch,
When the sun beats down and I lie on the bench
I can always hear them talk.

There's always been Ethel:
   "Jacob, wake up! You've got to tidy your room now."
And then Mister Lewis:
   "Isn't it time that he was out on his own?"
Over the garden wall, two little lovebirds - cuckoo to you!
                Keep them mowing blades sharp...

   I know what I like, and I like what I know;
   getting better in your wardrobe, stepping one beyond your show.

Sunday night, Mr Farmer called, said:
   "Listen son, you're wasting your time; there's a future for you
    in the fire escape trade. Come up to town!"
But I remebered a voice from the past;
   "Gambling only pays when you're winning"
- I had to thank old Miss Mort for schooling a failure.
                Keep them mowing blades sharp...

   I know what I like, and I like what I know;
   getting better in your wardrobe, stepping one beyond your show.

When the sun beats down and I lie on the bench,
I can always hear them talk.
Me, I'm just a lawnmower - you can tell me by the way I walk.

Keep your fingers out of my eye.

While I write I like to glance at the butterflies in glass that are all around
the walls. The people in memory are pinned to events I can't recall too well,
but I'm putting one down to watch him break up, decompose and feed another sort
of life. The one in question is all fully biodegradable material and
categorised as 'Rael'. Rael hates me, I like Rael, - yes, even ostriches have
feelings, but our relationship is something both of us are learning to live with.
Rael likes a good time, I like a good rhyme, but you won't see me directly
anymore - he hates my being around. So if his story doesn't stand, I might lend
a hand, you understand? (ie. the rhyme is planned, dummies).

The flickering needle jumps into red. New York crawls out of its bed.


And the lamb lies down on Broadway.

Early morning Manhattan,
Ocean winds blow on the land.


The weary guests are asked to leave the warmth of the all-night theater, having
slept on pictures others only dream on.


Movie-Palace is now undone,
The all-night watchmen have had their fun.
Sleeping cheaply on the midnight show,
It's the same old ending - time to go.
Get out!
It seems they cannot leave their dream.


The un-paid extras disturb the Sleeping Broadway. WALK to the left DON'T WALK to
the right: on Broadway, directions don't look so bright. Autoghosts keep the pace
for the cabman's early mobile race.


There's something moving in the sidewalk steam,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.

Nightime's flyers feel their pains.
Drugstore take down the chains.
Metal motion comes in bursts,
The gas station can quench that thirst.
Suspension cracked on unmade road
The trucker's eyes read 'Overload'


Enough of this - our hero is moving up the subway stairs into day- light. Beneath
his leather jacket he holds a spray gun which has left the message R-A-E-L in big
letters on the wall leading underground. It may not mean much to you but to Rael
it is part of the process going towards 'making a name for yourself.' When you're
not even a pure-bred Puerto Rican the going gets tough and the tough gets going.


And out on the subway,
Rael Imperial Aerosol Kid
Exits into daylight, spraygun hid,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.


With casual sideways glances along the wet street, he checks the motion in the steam
to look for potential obstruction. Seeing none, he strides along the sidewalk, past
the drugstore with iron guard being removed to reveal the smile of the toothpaste
girl, past the nightladies and past Patrolman Frank Leonowich (48, married, two kids)
who stands in the doorway of the wig-store. Patrolman Leonowich looks at Rael in much
the same way that other Patrolmen look at him, and Rael only just hides that he is
hiding something. Meanwhile from out of the steam a lamb lies down. This lamb has
nothing whatsoever to do with Rael, or any other lamb - it just lies down on Broadway.


The lamb seems right out of place,
Yet the Broadway street scene finds a focus in its face.
Somehow it's lying there,
Brings a stillness to the air.
Though man-made light, at night is very bright,
There's no whitewash victim,
As the neons dim, to the coat of white.
Rael Imperial Aerosol Kid
Wipes his gun - he's forgotten what he did,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.

Suzanne tired her work all done,
Thinks money - honey - be on - neon.
Cabman's velvet glove sounds the horn
And the sawdust king spits out his scorn.
Wonder women you can draw your blind!
Don't look at me! I'm not your kind.
I'm Rael!
Something inside me has just begun,
Lord knows what I have done,
And the lamb lies down on Broadway.
On Broadway -
They say the lights are always bright on Broadway.
They say there's always magic in the air.

While Henry Hamilton-Smythe minor (8) was playing croquet with
Cynthia Jane De Blaise-William (9), sweet-smiling Cynthia raised
her mallet high and gracefully removed Henry's head. Two weeks
later, in Henry's nursery, she discovered his treasured musical
box. Eagerly she opened it and as "Old King Cole" began to play,
a small spirit- figure appeared. Henry had returned - but not for
long, for as he stood in the room his body began ageing rapidly,
leaving a child's mind inside. A lifetime's desires surged through
him. Unfortunately the attempt to persuade Cynthia Jane to fulfill
his romantic desire led his nurse to the nursery to investigate
the noise. Instinctively Nanny hurled the musical box at the
bearded child, destroying both.


Play me Old King Cole
That I may join with you,
All your hearts now seem so far from me
It hardly seems to matter now.

And the nurse will tell you lies
Of a kingdom beyond the skies.
But I am lost within this half-world,
It hardly seems to matter now.

   Play me my song.
   Here it comes again.
   Play me my song.
   Here it comes again.

Just a little bit,
Just a little bit more time,
Time left to live out my life.

   Play me my song.
   Here it comes again.
   Play me my song.
   Here it comes again.

Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
So he called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.

But the clock, tick-tock,
On the mantlepiece -
And I want, and I feel, and I know, and I touch,
Her warmth...

   She's a lady, she's got time,
   Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your face.
   She's a lady, she is mine.
   Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your flesh.

I've been waiting here for so long
And all this time has passed me by
It doesn't seem to matter now
You stand there with your fixed expression
Casting doubt on all I have to say.
Why don't you touch me, touch me,
Why don't you touch me, touch me,
Touch me now, now, now, now, now...