old man.

The men are old.
Their views have changed
They look to preserve
What has been done. a lot.
but they have not written me out.
Time will tell. I will rise, and they will fall.
And we will change, and grow,
and in time, be able to find, a quiet moment
to go.

build-up.

If the right people come at the right time, bring their best music and nice wine, drinking the right amount i'll be intertwined with good friends who never walk the line, watching the stretched-out coke lines infect my fragile mind, everyone complimenting me like "this sofa's such a find" "you've got a nice smile" and "this must be a sign" if you're twenty one and in your prime no doubt to become in line for a girl who's fine, get a high five from a guy with a watch that shines, if i can get this party off the ground I'll make this night mine, all i need to do is wait for that doorbell to chime. The doorbell to chime.

jazz hands

I hold music close to me, two hundred songs rest in my palm.

Each one an escape out of this cold world to one more warm.

A room got closer last night, while outside there was a storm.
We laughed at a grown man-child who was unable to conform.

(The child doesn't hear so the child isn't here
The crowd doesn't know so they only cheer)

Lighting bolts across the face, changed since you where born
Meaning i have to step my game up trying hard before dawn.

Look behind i've left a trail, impressed all my women scorned
it's how you remember me, my movements will forever be- burned

into memory.

Thunderfooted she's in a race, bright like a light-bolt i learn
That in order to go the right way i need to lose pride and turn

My own self is more myself than all of them, stars in stardom
my mind's sharper than a nineteen fifties middle america lawn

beatup speakup dreambut

i've got a heartbeat that beats weak every time you speak

longing leaps liken to lost weeks where happiness leads

smell the memory it reeks kept the same one in old sheets

wrapped up in an old retreat that bleeds when you speak

in your hands I'm held by the tail and i fail to answer only squeak

in your eyes I'm hidden from sleep chillin' in darkness like a creep

below your feet I'm stepped on become your floorboard and creek

weakened heartbeat reminding me to remember i'm still alive- beat.

beat up, bruises show when not wrapped in what could have been
been up, higher than the flow what you knew i now know and speak

speak up, out comes the fire from my lungs describing all i've seen

seen what? a truth she'd bare not know, he's awoken from a dream

dream but, remember no dream has ever been quite as it seemed

seams burst, the talk is a confession of all my sins i now am clean

she's hurt, wanted a romantic, but never got it, couldn't handle it,

and after the promise i still contradict, my honesty is crossed with

every single thing i never wanted to be, to come across conceited

I've got a heartbeat that beats weak whenever you speak

but my mind freaks out when memories go to my life's peak

so to whatever way this conversation leads i will still leave

best of luck in finding him, the one in that'll let your love in

Lodon story part one.

he walks with london on his shoulders,a young man who's had enough- but doesn't yet know.

the streets mean a lot to him,over the past three years he's decided these streets are his home.

First it was the home, then the new home, then the old home again then two, three, too may flats

north-to north west in general was his home, as he still didn't know to what street he'd next go.

a quiet scream from within has him pause, an old friend with his family exit from old doors, still he walks and doesn't stop till camden lock, takes out a couple of pennies, watches them drop, waits for the plop.

Tonight he's backstage searching for lines, tomorrow he'll again play his part but right now he has to find something that can wake him up, as for so long he's been given too many reasons to simply, give up.

It's a life led to impress his friends, so much grace given but where do you go when the show ends?
with each step london puts a bit more pressure on his legs yet there's something in this night- like-
he doesn't know where it's going to to next. So with each step he looks out for a situation he wouldn't have expected and by the time he reaches the flat in mornington crescent his hands holding keys are hesitant, awakened to that he doesn't have to go home if it doesn't feel right, goes from zone two to one in one night.
by this point the ipod has died but that's alright, as he's quietly confident tonight will change his life.

affair.

I never listened enough to my mum
she would always say i was headed for big things
something like a, phenomenon,
i never knew where it came from
as i was always, not, well behaved and-

figured, you could make a man from clay

open his eyes to see a new day

create ears to hear all wisdom

give him a happy home to come from

but given the choice he still wont stay

never do never will, 

held hearts always hold out for a cheap thrill
started as daily visits while he was at work
turned into walks through the park,
swalling a bitter pill when they where together

she wanted a nurturer, it's not romantic

but i tried to help her, and that urge to kill

went to her other, other-

felt my lovers future fall through broken hands 

and the enemies blood in my mouth

the enemy is myself spat out i look up

see the man she never wanted to make angry

i knew he would, but i never knew it'd be..

i guess her bruises never came from affection
leaving me the man who's help only hurt

destined to become a crippled contradiction

we lived a dream that's a little too non- fiction.

no dream has ever been all it seems,

now I'm bursting at the seams, 

depending on what way his fists lean

teeth are seen and feel mine are gone

and i wonder how long this pain will carry on

if i my arms get their act together and no longer be so weak 

i can pick myself up from the street

but his feet on my back put a stop to that 

people from the pub now come out

i wonder if what i did was really so wrong,

i was the man she could depend on

then again it was their bed we slept on.

these street lights are so orange i see all in sepia

i dedicate my last thought to my mother, 

and am sorry to have disappointed her.

dibbidy do-yo.