Silly Old Sod

I always thought lies got shared with everyone eventually
but most people just get away with em
's mental innit?

(Too late)

A Writer Shade Of Punk

Am I really the best you got?
O curator?
O job a day?
O good man
O nice guy

Gobbins and Gubbins and whiskers n kittens

Bullet points,
You drive me inane

And the melotron explodes
and we all turn...
coz the fucking sun is broke.

Dear God XTC (Anger at the Maker)

I like this sun
it's cooler
than the killer
rooftop
parthenocissus clearing murdering bastard sun

that sun can fuck off

how can two degrees be the same as 60 centimetres?

It can't

Bad sun
Lying sun
Shining deceitful rays of shite

on us all sun.

Hey Hey Bobby Dylan

Hey hey, Bobby Dylan, I wrote you a song

I know there’s no time left - you can’t sing along

but just ‘fore you go - god knows, god becomes you,

Well it’s alright Bob. We’re only dying, 
—

Hey hey Bobby Dylan, I wrote you this song

Coz the things you were sayin are a thousand times gone

Now I’m singing this song and I can’t sing enough

Of paywalls and princes and peasants, computers and stuff
—

Hey Hey Bobby Dylan, now I know that you know

That no song and no words ever really changed the show

But when the counting is done there’s a tower in your place

Now that every billboard is fixed to your face
—

Now the waterfalls of pity roar and the fountains of youth

They’re all making noises ‘bout you speaking truth

Well maybe you are and maybe you ain’t

But you can’t say no more and they sold all your paint.
—

Still, you’re here while I’m speaking right now in this place

You’re selling your lithos and painting your face

You don’t mess with typos, you’re plying your trade

Capitalism is dying, but your fortune is made.
--

Hey Hey Bobby Dylan, I know that you know,

All the things I am saying and many times more

I'm singing this song but I can't sing enough

About paywalls and princes and peasants, computers and stuff.