Lyrics - hope so

lucky Sometimes, everything is upside down, everythingís the wrong way round, inside out. Sometimes, everything is cold and grey, all the colour washed away, fading out. Then you take me to a brighter place, from inner into outer space and I donít want to come down. I find Iím in a lighter place, high up in Heaven space and I donít want to come down. Uptime, when everybodyís bright and gay, every dayís a holiday, everything is ok. Downtime, when everybody hits the ground, everybodyís coming round and itís a crazy quilt bouquet. You find an even higher plane, Iím floating in it once again, sky flying around. And I canít think of where Iíd rather be, who Iíd rather have with me, Iím never coming down. I donít need drugs and vices, I donít need lifeís advisors to know how lucky I am. I donít need guides and meditations, twisted mystic explanations, I know how lucky I am. I donít need women and fast cars, loads of money and big scars, to show how lucky I am. I donít need a big house with a swimming pool, I donít need to own things to make people drool, I donít need to pretend I play by different rules, I donít need to be kind by being cruel, I donít need a big tool, Iíve got the crown jewels, Iím no fool, I know how lucky I am. Iíve got you and Iím living in a nicer place, Iím looking at a nicer face when I turn round and look at myself. Iíve got no more time to waste, Iím no longer on the chase, youíre here and Iím found. Iím happier than Iíve ever been, all we have is now and itís a dream and when I wake up Iím still smiling. I canít stop smiling. Sometimes I donít know which notes to play, I canít find the words to say how lucky I am.

be careful what you wish for Thereís not getting what you want, and then thereís getting it. Turning everything into a beautiful memory and forgetting it. Repeating everything I say - I want to know if Iím listening, count me out and count me back Ė have I gone missing? Itís cock-up not conspiracy Ė I wish I had a friend like me, to put things into perspective Ė and point out my stupidity. Regret your regrets with foreboding and fear. Nostalgia with hindsight is how got here. Viewed myself in the mirror Ė I was shocked at what I saw, the last time I had a good look I was only 34. Now the numbers have switched round Ė the veneerís getting thinner, itís all gone back to front Ė my reflectionís dimmer. Who in their right mind sees a psychotherapist? Always needing more but wanting it less. The glass is half full but half full of emptiness. Babies in Motherís arms, with Daddyís eyes, smelly and in need of a shave. In rude health Ė heís fit but for the stiff upper lip. ĎI stand naked before youí, he said as he undressed, ĎIím stressedí he confessed, Ďand a little bit depressedí. She shouts ĎIím oppressed and repressedí Ė you could tell she was not impressed. ĎSo whatís the prognosis? Death or neurosis?í Have a little heart not a death wish. Give me something to believe rather than to forgive. Itís better to miss your dying wish and live. Grandpa on Grannyís bench, making sense of little Miss Understanding. On the whistling bridge he hears her song, thinks to himselfí whereís the time gone?í Now heís walking down French Street, where the land, sea and sand meet, where they held hands and dreamed on, look out to the horizon. Oh yes she had a lovely aspect, though her views were very suspect, but then nobodyís perfect Ė though she came close to it. Thereís not getting what you want Ė and then thereís getting it.

new book She was trying to impress, he was trying hard not to undress her. Just three months since they pulled. When she mentioned kids there was a pregnant pause, he hadnít even thought about in-laws. He said Iím lost for words, and thatís not something I can say too easily. Iím speechless as youíve heard. Iíll turn a new leaf but its novel for me, youíre a new page from a different story. But I do love you Ė you say that you love me too. With innocence so sweet it knocks you off your feet, and when youíre on the ground you pick yourself up. He said I donít belong. She said I know you Ė know youíre wrong about that. He said say that again. In a year or two weíll get a mortgage, pull down the shutters and pull up the drawbridge. I do love you Ė you say that you love me too. With innocence so pure, too big to ignore, and when youíre on the floor you pick yourself up. He was trying to read the signs but he found her absent, alone inside her head. Thinking hard about a time further on and down the line, when all this would be behind, wondering if heíd change his mind. She did the earlies, he worked the late shift. It wasnít easy to make their lives fit. Words got scary and feelings frantic, but they kept their story a romantic. Spiral bound in chaos and confusion, just a short forward but a long conclusion. I will love you Ė you said that youíll love me too. Thereíll be tears of laughter, lots of happy ever afters, thereíll be no last chapter in our new book.

different world Harsh weather warnings, imminent failure, global warmings, immediate danger, wild fires raging Italy to Albania, fire fighters fighting Bosnia to Romania, ice caps melting, nothing but rain here. Flat capped roofs and shag pile carpets, curb crawling off-roaders, nowhere to park it, calendars and whisky coming out of both ears, a pillow of the community for years and years and years. Hips and dips and base rate risers, shootings, stabbings and survivors, school winners eat Jamie Oliver dinners. Money doctor swears the Hippocratic Oath, turns out to be just another hypocritical oaf. The thick & the sick of it, materialistic bulimia, debtors, forged letters & credit card failure, bankrupt consumers buy quick now, pay later. A wry smile gone awry, a lottery bid to make you cry, competition scams, T.V. banns, media makeovers, talks and walks and industry takeovers. Free and easy, expensive and bad, the rich become richer, the poor become mad, and youíve just been had. Allís fair in love and war, take your place on the front line, coming in at the wrong place, pulling out at the wrong time, unfriendly fire incident, losing control, incompetent combatants, military withdrawal. democratic dictators, all no, and no how, for more information press the red button now. Historyís tradition, a hard back to break, you pays your money, you makes your mistake. stocks and shares, bear and bull, Dow Jones, Wall Street, FTSE and all. Go away, find yourself, come back as someone else. So many questions, so many voices, no real answers, only so many choices. Protestors, court jesters, givers and takers, high flyers, white liars, truth seekers and fakers, bone shakers, ball breakers.

war zone Thereís been a catastrophic breakdown, a fatal error has occurred. Shutdown is in progress, nothing is secured. The riot actís been written, the truths and lies all told. Boundaries resurrected, stonewalled and stone cold. The barriers come down Ė nothing can be saved. Someone lost control, someoneís lost their faith. Undermined but understanding, they had to leave in haste. Escorted from the building, shamed and pressurised, threatened to be filled in, someoneís being terrorised, dehumanised Ė never to return. Thereís been a revolution, someoneís fall from grace has caused a moral meltdown, anarchy is taking place. A splinter group is sanctioned, a breakoutís being planned, thereís government to bring down, a party to disband. Itís all so underhand Ė nothing can be done. A system is imploding, a networkís been alarmed. A time bomb is exploding, an army being disarmed. Somebodyís taking over, someone organise a queue - coup. Someoneís seized the power, someone turned the screw but it wasnít you Ė you didnít have a clue Ė did you? A war is raging Ė youíre in the zone Ė but it wasnít you.

ladiesí man He had a small, tight, white, bow tie. A monocle stuck in his wide right eye. A thin moustache, a thick coarse laugh, a brow that knitted, a suit that fitted, the gift of the gab, a fine line in patter, a Paddington stare and a look very dapper. And oh he fancied himself as a ladyís man but with a twinkle in his eye heíd wink at anyone. A walk-in wardrobe full of clothes. Going in, coming out, he couldnít keep that closet closed. Ghosts in the cupboard, reputation on the slide, trying too hard to hide his feminine side. Walking tall on the straight and narrow but it all seems bent, twisted and shallow. Being a man can be so demanding when all you need is love and a bit of understanding. Oh he fancied himself as a ladyís man but with a twinkle in his eye heíd wink at anyone. Itís a terrible affliction, an addiction indeed. Attention contention, a desperate need. Like a drama queen heíd announce his state, with a flourishing flounce and an exaggerated gate. Pronouncing gloom, presenting rage, organised, centre stage, and with his audience aghast heíd say he was going insane, glare at everyone and claim they were to blame. When they resisted he persisted and insisted it was true, he was the victim that he played and everybody knew. He fancied himself as a ladyís man, but with a twinkle in his eye heíd wink at anyone. If there are morals to this story then I suppose itís hard to judge a book, especially when itís closed. You canít buy love but you spend it as it flies, men donít cry - they sweat from their eyes. If youíre bowled over and out youíre batting for the wrong team, and just a glance at your stance shows which way you lean. You might swing bi, hang left in the pink, set up camp, Testosterone Inc, but you donít have to be a ladyís man, when thereís a twinkle in your eye, you can be anyone. If thereís a moral to this story I guess itís donít judge yourself by the rest, independence reigns supreme but keep your nose nice and clean.

mango lassie I had a seismic shift in me psyche when I saw the willowy girl, in a bar with The Electric Soft Parade, a beer, a J20 and a smile from the barmaid. Sheís my mango lassie - my tango sassy. She said ĎWhere have you come from?í I said ĎI come from Nottinghamí. Sheís what she wears Ė simple but smart but with no sleeve for a heart, too sensitive by half. My mango lassie Ė my tango sassy. She said ĎI live in the flat above - do you want a head on that one love?í I felt compressed in my zip file, Iíd not be opened for quite a while. She was my long haired Buddha from Liverpool, I was trying to be cool ut probably looked a fool to my long haired lassie Ė I still said ĎCan I see you?í She said ĎItís quarter to seven Ė Iím off at eleven!í Sheís my mango lassie Ė my tango sassy Ė the beer was gassy. My body sat for hours, thinking of her and drinking up Flowers, wondering if Iíd be the first, to take the edge off my hunger I quenched my thirst. She was really classy, with a good chassis too. I was going steady, she said ĎAre you ready? Letís go!í Screw tops after midnight, slow burn by candlelight. She was up for it all right but I stayed down Ė I was too tight and then she asks me ĎAm I ugly?í I said ĎNo itís not you itís meí, she said ĎI thought it might beÖí I thought we could be happy, me and my mango lassie but alas she couldnít agree.

e-motion The more you talk the less I listen. Iíll get straight to the point before you digress, I like you more when you want me less. The more you speak the less you say. Non stick man with Teflon skin leatherette, not the real thing. And you, carbon neutral baby. Passionately patronising, all that laughing gas gassing is antagonising. A quick way lay, just a click away. At times like these itís easy to forget, e-motionís just shit on the internet. Never trust a bore who drives a bull-barred 4x4, with a manicure, a pedicure, theyíre insecure, thereís no cure, but one thingís for sure Ė Paypal is their pal and itís your place or itís Myspace, touch the screen, feel the force, you better get ready for digital intercourse. Myopic eyes, once so romanticised. Saw and read blurry pages, just the vision of the middle ages. Now thereís no snogging, thereís just blogging. Come to bed pleas, indiscreet, slippery electric nylon sheets. Won her on ebay, he hopes that sheíll stay, but he knows heís an overrated, fixated, full of self-hatred, under-pixellated webcam man, heís interfaced, camera, laptop, touching base. Caught in the web, addict-anon, friend unrequited, Now the great unsigned, the logged off and resigned, the prematurely blind, Itís shut down time.

co-joined at the lips It started with a tickle and a bit of a cough, the next thing weíre in bed, lights and clothes all off. Too clever by half but not half clever enough because two in the buff equalled one up the duff. And neither of us wanted a family but when you go into these things all willy nilly, thereís not much time for regrets & introspecting as things come to pass that you werenít expecting. Now weíre on the same team. With increased membership Ė weíre co-joined at the lips. You keep your hood up - I keep my head down. Weíre hoodies - fuddy-duddies - we are clowns. If you stop & think about it we shouldnít even stand a chance because it takes two to tango and neither of us dance. Youíre a bit defeatist and Iím a loser thatís a fact but at least we are completist so itís not completely crap. Itís just you donít seem to agree with me, like pickled onions and MTV, and I canít seem to agree with you, like what you say and what you do. Yet we still want the same things. Thereíre still kisses and quips Ė weíre co-joined at the lips. Your less is more; Iím more or less. In our experience, to disagree to agree works best. Now everything you say sounds like a metaphor and Iím just not sure what that means anymore. You say Iím kind to be cruel and you speak like youíre dumb and you talk to me like Iím an oxymoron. When we hold us in our arms they start to ache, our minds go blank and our hearts just break. They say patience comes to those who wait but do we have the patience that it takes. Donít let go Ė weíre in each otherís grips. Weíre co-joined at the lips. Fizzy goes flat and fresh grows stale, hair goes grey and tans go pale. So let lying dogs sleep and sleeping dogs lie and give me the kiss of life before we die - co-joined at the lips.

appetite Thereís a beautiful married woman of a certain age, with a thirst for expensive tastes and very low wages. Sheís got recipe books everywhere and she marks all the pages. Sheís a very good cook Ė yes sheís a very good cook. Thereís a dutiful married woman with a beautiful smile. The one thing you can say for certain is sheís very stylistic. Sheís got a complicated mind but she likes to keep it simplistic. She looks very sweet when sheís doing her Zen. And I canít wait till she gets home, if sheís going to be late she always phones, which means that no news is good news. Sheís does a hell of a good job but itís only 18 Ĺ hours, which leaves her room in her life for sunsets and flowers, reading and writing, drawing, hot baths and cool showers, strong beer and weak tea, red wine and for me. Sheís a worldly girl, she can really be quite ethnic. She an ethical girl, bohemian artistic. Very down to earth but undeniably mystic. Morally sound, head high with her feet on the ground. And I like it best when weíre on our own - she's got so many friends itís hard to get her alone but when I do she makes it worth it. Oh sheís the ideal specimen, of original origin. Oh sheís perfection personified, beauty objectified, subjectively idolised. Sheís the salt of the earth, sheís so crystallised. Just an ordinary girl but profoundly astute. A word to the wise, sheís dumbfoundly mute. A Christian at heart with Catholic roots - Oh sheís so cute she leaves me quaking in my boots. She taught me how to be pedantic. Sheís a romanticised romantic. Itís not just a matter of semantics - I donít have the vocabulary to say what she means to me. She gives me food for thought. Offers it to me on a plate. Lays it all out on the table - I swallow hard and eat my words and wait. And I just want to see her tonight. Make a meal of it and take a big bite. Eat her whole by candlelight. Sheís my appetite.

mutt I sit up and beg when youíve a bone to pick with me. Iím suede to your leather and I always take your lead. Youíre at the end of my tether with the bit between your teeth and you can say whatever and be safe in your belief, that when youíre down to the marrow a proper party pooper, you know that come tomorrow I will be your pooper scooper. Itís raining cats and dogs. Itís a real Jackson Pollock. Youíre a real work of art and Iím the dogís bollocks. The catís out of the bag no matter how you wine and holler - God is just dog backwards, it should be you wearing this dog collar. I scrape and claw while you just bark out your commands. You throw sticks and stones and think that I donít understand. Laughing while Iím gnashing, you were once shy and twice bitten, so you put me in the doghouse when you are having kittens. Itís raining cats and dogs. Itís a real Jackson Pollock. Youíre a real work of art and Iím the dogís bollocks. You sniff and pick holes while Iím looking for escape flaps - you like doggy paddles and I like chasing pussy cats. What on earth must you think of me? For what itís worth I probably agree. I like chasing birds, youíve got feathers in your cap, you like fake fur, I like other peopleís laps. Itís raining cats and dogs. Itís a surreal Jackson Pollock. Youíre a real work of art and Iím the dogís bollocks. Your biteís worse than your bark and you can be a bitch but there are no fleas on me Ė I am still your mutt.

france Iíve travelled all around the world. Actually thatís not true. Iíve just been to spaces in my head and countries Ė one or two. Iím on a time and space continuum, stuck in this black hole. Where everything means nothing and carries no weight at all. I should have got the last bus home but I was hoping you might come for me. I was hoping weíd go all the way and given time you might have let me. Now I just hope you donít forget me. Itís a space and time continuum, where something, sometime, never gets done. Where nothing becomes everything and the weight of the world is mine to carry on. Iíve sailed on the seas of love, Iíve been carried on winds of change, Iíve travelled on higher planes, Iíve been on trains of thought, Iíve slept walked in a trance, Iíve seen the light at the end of the tunnel but it was just France.

ramble You go in, switch the light, you donít know what youíll find. Iím out on the roof tonight sitting with the spies. I havenít any money, canít get out to the banks. You get a bit of hassle, you donít get any thanks. All depends on the verdict, a point of law itís said, my way Iíll survive, their way Iím dead. Iíve retrieved some things Iíd lost so thatís come out alright but it'sís got a bit long winded and a bit short on sight. So itís back to the old grind, half in and half out. Hills and wild music, not much to laugh about. You donít get many chances, all wrong and no right, been down there myself, all maniacs and fights. Others just buckle and do their own thing but theyíre not seeing what Iíve seen. Seeing is believing, itís not down to trust, not do as I do, itís do as I must. Internally mad? Well perhaps I am. A right bag of mashings, can you see him? I can. Heís the one on the run, running the boss, a dangerous man, heís the man with the dosh. Things up in the air, fingers being pointed, never right on the day, land of disappointed. Let you go on one occasion, you know theyíll call again, so keep your eyes on the target and do the best you can. Been out and about, gone back to the house looking for trouble, I found it of course. I guess Iím in shock, donít know what to do. Not a lot you can when theyíre bombing you. A small room with a phone, been here half an hour. Itís getting to the point where Iím really scared now. Things are going down, things are coming up, the house should have been sold but itís not. Hello, here we go, thereís going to be trouble. The lowest point so far, itís starting to bubble. Iím going to strike out and go it alone, anyway I canít say on the dog and bone. Iím in no doubt what Iím sayingís being recorded, basic intelligence, sordid, ordered. When I pick up the phone listen out for the click. The sad thing is they get away with it. Weíre stuck in the mud, the aftermath of the storm, I keep taking the tablets and try to keep warm. The shipís going down, the bunk stinks like a skunk, Iím drunk as beetle on the way to be sunk. I was starting to feel better, like things were improving, then this goes and happens - youíve got to keep moving. Thereís nothing left for me here until they decide Iíve got not guilty eyes. Iíve got to turn myself in to sort myself out. Canít expect others, just poking about. Been on the blower, some ex colleagues of mine - Itíll come out in the wash, just a matter of time. Iíve not been hurt but Iíve seen people who have, theyíre trying to scare us just for a laugh. The firm on one hand, police on the other, they like to put it about and give you some bother. Reconciliation, the whys and the wherefores. Give the lad a whisper and try to make sure he gets the information, but no another word, if it gets out thereís no doubt thereíll be another murder. Iím worrying about the money, the banks and all that, itís all tit for tat, chasing the fat. Itís plucked from the head, overalls and buttons, they come from different schools, nutters, cretins. Sitting in the rubble, taking time and the trouble, about twenty people, it could even be double. Iím in here for good now, theyíve dotted the eyes. A bad gang of ruffians, a good pack of lies. Leaves are always dropping, theyíre always watching you, able to count up whoís who and whoís shooting through. Itís never enough, they try to overstuff you, a bit rough and tough and theyíre likely to top you. Lots of interference and kicking up a fuss. They give you meds at nigh which makes the mornings rough. Attitudes and platitudes, acting under pressure, I suppose itís all right if you donít have to be here. Held up in the snow, hiding out in the wood, Iíve been through the bad patch, it should all be coming good. Itís hard to make sense or be understood, I donít know where we are, nobody does. I just keep warm and settle down and Iím really going to try to get out while I can so they canít certify. No more worry or whittling, I just bite my lip before somebody whistles or gives it a spit. Itís just the same old game, you either do or you donít, you either stop or you go, you either will or you wonít. So donít get into a slide, I know how it is, everybody stays alive till theyíre too old to live.

change The rain is pouring down. Iím getting wetter now but the sun will soon be out. The sun is beaming down. Iím so hot but the rain will cool me down. All around me now I feel change. Nothing stays the same but change.

© Crazy Quilt Bouquet

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