Every day you're squeezed through a tube
And spill into the land of oily fluorescence;
You shine your teeth for the men and their noobs
And they hand you a hammer and they give you three guesses.
The Buff-weiler hands you a stack-full of rungs
And a corner to prop up your chair
While the Wuff-beiler stands - yes he stands on your tongue
And sows rows of snow in your hair.
"Go, little people, go,
Under panes held fast
To the fifty-seven bus
Grow little people grow
By adding them to rain
Arranging them in games
Dutiful monogamies
And other sad refrains"
Roll out your horizons for the feet and knees and thighs
Of all the captains in this ship within a bottle.
Breathing sweet surprises, fixing them upon the glassy skies
And feeling under your seat for that pea.
"Go, little people, go,
In portable cocoons
Woven up with tunes
Grow little people grow
Arranging them in lanes
Labeling the days
Scratching out trajectories
And other sad refrains"
Every day you're breathing through a tube,
Drinking-in the oil of sugary indifference;
You trust your feet as they're caressed in the gloom,
Fingers worming, yearning for the soil of magnificence.
"Go, little people, go,
Worshipers of wheels
And little rubber seals
Grow little people grow
Clinging to the waves
With their buckets and their spades
Sandcastle economies
Tidal bureaucracies
Grinning patriocities
And other sad refrains"
Everything they said was true,
The bomb came down on me and them
I was young but I remember the white flash -
Bright as daylight.
Clocks stopped at 11:12
The books all flew off the bookcase
And my dog took shelter
Under a truck.
Our house was neat so it did not explode,
But you should have seen the Harveys' down the street.
We ate some beans from tins and we went without TV for a while
And the cat went missing but she came back in nine days.
Everything they said was right -
I woke up in the Morning After and I was still alive
So I popped a pill and cracked a smile,
Took my basket from the shelf and went shopping for a while.
Everything I thought wrong -
I thought they'd never drop the thing
But now that they have I'm glad that
God is on OUR SIDE.
Everything we learned in school
I remembered it all and followed the mantra
It's all clear with your hands on your ears
And your head under the table.
Everything they said was right -
I woke up in the Morning After and I was still alive
So I popped a pill and cracked a smile,
Took my basket from the shelf and went shopping for a while.
Small bag, you're an island in a vast sea of people,
They flow all around you in widening circles;
Your belly, concealed beneath zippers and stitching,
The crowd is itching and watching and waiting
And not watching and not waiting
To know what's inside.
Small bag without an owner
(hey, every bag must have a shoulder)
A wolf on the hill and the flock in the stillness
Of waiting and watching,
And not waiting, and not watching
To know what's inside.
"I know what you're thinking,
But I'm just a case full of love letters
neglected in spite,
just boxes of novelty items that could not be sold.
"I'm full of figures for the Board, and dull presentations,
A sandwich and an apple and a two-day-old lamington,
I've got Julia's clothes for the weekend at Grandma's,
I've got tickets to the opera, a last-minute shopping list,
A pair of glasses just fresh from the optometrist,
I've got lipstick, chapstick, a cheese-stick and twenty dollars
But I know what you're thinking."
Small bag without an owner
(hey, every bag must have a shoulder)
A wolf on the hill and the flock in the stillness
Of waiting and watching,
And not waiting, and not watching
To know what's inside.
"I know what you're thinking,
Such a habit of a hunter in gatherer's clothes,
But I'm just a schoolbag carelessly left behind
On a field-trip to a state exhibition of clocks
Tick, tick, tick tick and tock.
"I've got a history assignment, seven days late,
And a thing full of mp3's;
I've got a booklet of train times and a list of hotels,
I've got a small plastic bag full of stones and seashells,
I've got a teddy bear and a pair of shoes
And a bookful of Dr Seuss and the buckle
Near my handle is a little bit loose,
And I lean to one side 'cause I've always been dragged that way,
Fallen from hands, I have just lost my way,
But I know what you're thinking."
If I could climb into your tree,
Meet the monsters, apply the threads
To the implements of sleep
That you dangle, methodically tangle
From every twisted rung.
If I could take this scenery
And get it spinning - here, it's easy -
You just grab right here and pull,
Still as a dancer on a
Pirouetting stage.
Careful, careful, how to hold you
I would not die old just for you
Softly, softly, you're not sleeping
I would carry you into dreaming
If I am a matchbox cute and trivial teaser
Found on the slide faded by years
You're the cockroach at ground-zero,
Nonchalant, pointing fingers
As the world ups and burns.
What part of drowning compels
Your ear to the shell?
I've watched you scramble for an edge,
It's a vision I have held
Careful, careful, how to hold you
I would not die old just for you
Closely, closely,
Like a disciple to a prayer
Like an old man to the
Railing of the stairs
Like a winter to the bear.
He comes around with perfect timing,
Hang-dog coat and dark eyes shining
Bag of tools, clinking in hiding,
Book of rules and schedule of tidings.
He funnels the air with his silky voice,
Changes the locks and gives me a choice
Of keys and pieces of curly wire
And matches and strings and everything, everything.
My Victorian doll's house
I sleep under the stairs
I get pins and needles
I grow nylon hair
Here he comes with bags full of mirrors
Boxes of wine and TV dinners
Four-legged, absolute certainty winners
Beat-up books with soft-center inners
He circles the house and cuts all the wires
Scrambles my numbers and lets down my tyres
Shades the bedroom and candles it red
He incants to me softly - everything, everything
My Edwardian doll's house
I squeeze into their rooms
I get pins and needles
And a fear of balloons
He comes around with pumping devices
Black coat shiny and voice full of niceness
He comes around with collars and ties
They're all the right lengthes and all the right sizes.
He circles me with his delicate fingers
The world doesn't end, the world simply lingers
He huffs and he puffs and my rooms get bigger
He incants to me slowly - everything, everything
My Suburbian doll's house
I squeeze under the stairs
Put my eyes to the windows
And count everything there
I grow pins and needles
I feel no fear.
When they tightened the screws
And dotted the lines,
Pulled back the flap
To let in the sunshine
I felt love, love, love, love, love.
Love for the ant with the load on his back,
Love for the man on his bike,
Fish-like and perspirationalised.
Love for the teller with the soft, beaten smile,
Pressed under glass like a leaf
I felt love, love, love, love, love.
Oooooh, the light is so bright,
Everything is alight,
But I think I'm alright
Love for the runners of kites with their strings,
Fishing in a sea upside-down,
Love, love, love, love, love.
Love for the star that sears my neck,
Stubborn as a haiku,
Love, love, love, love, love.
Leaves fall down,
Leaves are brown and gray -
Have love for the leaves.
River flows down,
Bubbles chatter madly -
So much noise!
Oooooh, the light is so bright,
Everything is alight,
But I think I'm alright
When they tightened the day around my starry nights
And joined all those specks the lines that were left
Spelled love, love, love, love, love.
Love for the egg with her infinite cracks,
Love for the spoon - the promises it makes
Love, love, love, love, love.
Love, love, love, love, love.
Love, love, love, love, love.
Love, love, love, love, love.
Here is a table and here is a chair
Here is a head to hold up your hair
Here is a pencil and here is a sword
Which do you use to get what you want?
Here are two string hands
Here is an angel to dance on your sill
She says that she'll fall if your thoughts are she will
You've five days to catch her and two days to wish
That you just couldn't see her
But you keep making lists
And she's on every one.
Here it is - here it is -
Smoke in your fingernails, name in a tree
Shards of green grass on the back of your neck
Saying yes please - please, yes please
Here it is - here it is.
Here are your fingers with their fine loops of string,
Delicate nooses for memories of things
See how they multiply and savagely twist
Upwards to rub and to scratch at your wrists
While binding your thumbs
There is no thing beautiful about a clock
Collectors of clocks do not understand time,
The way it stretches like tendrils, desperate for sunshine,
The way it schools and zig-zags,
Avoiding the jaws of Things that are Bigger -
Bigger Things, intent on nows and tomorrows,
Sweeping in and leaving trails of sorrows
And elusive joys, like breadcrumbs inviting you
Backwards and forward and forward and backwards.
No, there's nothing beautiful about a clock,
And if I had Time again, I'd make them all stop.
The gridsmiths of days know nothing of time,
All those calendar girls and men
And kittens and flowers, harbinging on death,
They're oh so benign inside the monster that drives them,
All scarred and withered and blind and lumbering
Between its next meal and a safe place to hide,
Its wounds leaking trails forth and behind it,
Behind it and forth.
No, there's nothing beautiful about a clock,
And if I had Time again, I'd make them all stop.
Cocoa beans, flat screens,
Things that go BANG!
A thousand singers
Neatly in the palm of my hand.
All-wheel, "No deal!"
Electric 'n' gas.
The rain comes down
And then it drips from a tap.
All gather around
The vowels and the nouns
The lights and the noise
All the girls, all the boys
Descended from the apes
Wound-up to become
Clockwork Monkeys,
Each his own little drum,
With a head full of wishes,
A mouth full of kisses
Bright bright spark, out...
Sweet stuff cool stuff
Things that go fast
Get it real quick
Coz it's never gonna last.
It's a good feel, feel good
Keeping my eyes
One forever forward
And the other behind.
Your dreams are recurring
That hand that keeps stirring you
Moving, arousing you
Turning you, wearing you
Down from the apes
Wound-up to become
Clockwork Monkeys,
Each his own little drum,
With a head full of wishes,
And a mouth full of kisses
See none, hear none,
Speak none too,
But it's underneath the nails
And it sticks to the shoes.
Sit down, stand up,
Learn to say "please",
When you're old enough to perish
Then we'll give you the keys.
Your dreams are beautiful
Your rhythm impeccable
Marching the hollow men
Into the straw
Descended from the apes
Wound-up to become
Clockwork Monkeys,
Clanging on their drums,
With head full of wishes,
Wishes full of heading
Down from the apes
Wound-up to become
Clockwork Monkeys,
Clinging to their drums,
With head full of wishes,
Wishing and wishing...
The waves lap on a city beach
Like desperate fingers weakly reaching
Out for the edge of the cliff
A child learning to swim cries
Between determined adult hands,
Tiny arms flailing and failing
To communicate the terror.
Under the gaze of the horizon's
Hard verticals of industry
Plastic spades and buckets manufacture
Canals and castles at the sea's edge;
Half the fun is the race against time,
The thrill of impermanence.
Towels perched on a bed of sand
And shells and broken glass,
Out of water we dry our naked skin,
Your team is heading for a win
Your crackly messenger cries
Above the babble of the traffic going by.
And putting trust in the desperate kind of
Niceness of it all,
It's like learning to swim -
It's better than drowning after all.
And as the sun goes out we congregate on cooling sand,
Eat chips, walk the dog,
Ride on the conversation of friends
Or huddle with our choice of drug
And sleep amongst oblivion,
The city concurs
And merges with the stars
And putting trust in the desperate kind of
Niceness of it all,
It's like learning to swim -
It's better than drowning after all.
How We Go
B Side of the Suns
Two Suns Once
Static of Crows
The Lodger
Favourite Dinosaur
Silence in the Library
Iso Haircut
The Orbit of Your Breathing
I Don't Remember the Future
Specks on a Map
Oddities
The Gravestone Carvers
Imaginary Lines
Falling Asleep with the Moon Still On
Lovers' River
Prayers in Glass Houses
The Sea Will Take it From Here
Land
What Kind of Yes?
Long Tall Shadow
Once Was Water
The Sky that Came Before
Party Songs