AUTUMN '86 - THE DESCENT

I am the poet and this is my song
would you care to stroll along and share with me
this tale I have to tell?

I'm lost on a journey as long as the night
I've no light ahead and no end in sight
and despair is my guide and he's led me far astray

I am the dance
I am the dance

Pictures, dreams, songs have I heard
scribbled pages and crossed out words;
memorabilia is all I've left behind.

As blank as the page that before me now lies
my mind is the same for my visions have died
I am moribund
I've nothing left to say

It was a dream I once had a song I once heard
a tale that once told dies - disappears.

It was a dream I'd clung to a hope I once knew
a love that then grew grey and decayed

Was a time I'd sing and play till dawn
weekends to practise and perform
the songs inside my head burst forth
my fingers danced in scales and chords
the stories more and more bizarre,
came bubbling up and clawed the air
and slowly as all merged as one
and the greasepaint ran.....


You'd-better beware
of understanding.....
A little knowledge grows and grows
the innocence I used to know turned bitter-sweet
then sour.

In this gloom arcade
doom engulfs you
everyday the endless cycle
everyday the endless dream
of Saturday affairs

Was a dream too good to be believed
so many things to be achieved
by day the teacher chalk in hand
by night the poet's works I planned
two halves so totally entwined
two hearts were broken one was mine
as everything I ever loved
slowly fell apart

Better beware
of all those castles in the air
of all those visions that we shared
(you know and I know that things will be better in time)

You'd better beware...
You'd better beware...
You'd better beware...

RAILWAY NOMADS

In the year of kings in the Spring of '52
trains shunted in a railway siding
near the sea where gulls were gliding I was born.

In this seaside shanty settlement
of fishermen and railway workers
three a.m. one Saturday morning three weeks late
(it seems I'd slept in) I arrived at last.
In this gloomy light “Don't want to be here!”
Never been an early riser
wrinkled red face cried and cried until the sun appeared.

Then we moved along - the railway nomads
six towns by the age of four
an only child with little more than
memories on the move.....

Shadows come between us now
like fog upon some old canal
and everything seems strange somehow
more like a dream.....

Packed our hopes and dreams together
seems we were ever changing stations
- fly by nights.
In one horse sad towns endless beer rounds
set the pace - the fly by nights.
Promotions floundered
tensions mounted
sent the wife and boy back home to town.
With a father in flight
and a mother alone for days and nights.
With frail friendships in hand
blew them all with a kilt and pipe band.
First twelve years of my life
there's not one child that I now call a friend

These visions of my childhood haunt me now.........

Greet the walls Loyolla built
black clad priests with wings
fifth grey school in seven years
in each one -
“He's the new boy”
rings out into the air
it hurts but I don't care
’cos I'm dreaming my life away.

Italian kid one grade below
an Irishman and me
like the setting for a joke
’cept the joke consumed all three.
We made Superman a hit
and Gomer Pyle a star
Buggsy made Italian tons
while I broke windows - AAH !!!!
It was a bum ball anyway
(It wasn't a bum ball - it was a bum shot)
I don't care what you say
’cos I'm dreaming my life away.

Lunchtime handball escapades
Matrics against the wall
Parker's charging cavalcade
the half back line stood tall.
Friday nights for basement chess
dawn breakfasts on Black Hill
Third Eighteen's sole forward line
we lost them all
- but still it was a game that we all played.

There's so much more to say
leave it in your head......
.....’cos I'm dreaming my life away.

The games that we all played
there's so such more to say
leave it in your head.......
....’cos I'm dreaming my life away.

LOVERS

Tear down the old grey walls do away with those ties
I'm throwing out the story books
you can keep those old lies
I don't believe them now (Never did)
“The best days of your lives”!

Down on the corner each Monday we'd stand
bike clips in satchels school caps in hand
“Slattery's will get you nowhere” we bellowed forth in song
the three of us - just ambling along.

Two schoolgirls on pushbikes would daily pass by
we gazed from a distance both painfully shy.
Kelly was in command we'd fled behind the lines
the two of us - one of a kind.

Where are you now?
We're planning manoeuvres
Where are you now?
We're forging our armour
Where are you now?
Verbal bullets from the hip?
Some say they like it, some say they don't
some say the bullshit
is just a joke (just a joke, just a joke)
But you're crying inside.

With safety in numbers we “Wanda”'d these paths
and chocolate Maltesas provided the laughs.
A30 petrol bombs and tarnished pewter mugs
the grand charade - in the real game of love.

Where are you now?
We're planning manoeuvres
Where are you now?
We're forging our armour
Where are you now?
Verbal bullets from the hip?
Some say they like it some say they don't
some say the bullshit
is just a joke (just a joke, just a joke)
But you're crying inside.

JESTERS

When the nightmare passed and P.E.B. was just a ghost
came the call from Valentino in the wings.
With halting steps our fragile egos shuffled forth
to fret and strut their hour upon the stage

This is the age of illusion.....

In a concrete cave
where night and day lay intertwined
and the tragic masks lay scattered on the floor
Jean Paul Marat, Dan Morgan, Spike And Patrick White
gave birth to bathtubs, bunyips, ham and more.

This is the age of illusion......
“It's nineteen forty two and Italy is now at war”
and hordes of “Digitzu” soldiers sweep the land

By candlelight
in multicoloured coats of dreams
the “Owl and Madman” lay the chessboard down
and “Sebastian” plays his war games.

We practised hard
the jesters’ masks were soon complete
with certainty and charm we walked the boards.
But in the night in two a.m. downtown pizza bars
only then did these visards begin to fall

It was indeed the age of illusion.......
It was indeed the age of illusion.......