The moon and I
We once were one
A lady and her man
But time has torn
Us each apart
Left me broken at her hand
And now I feel a stranger here
Lost in a foreign land
But My home away from everything
Is anywhere I stand

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Armor and mud
Sword shield and blood
Drum beats and fire,
March on the Shire.
Fiddle and Fife,
Spittle and knife.
The piglet squeals,
Fat crackles and peels.

Your tentacles hideously rise,
from the black where you sleep.
Saucer sized suckers
find the prize they seek.

Your fearsome battle scars
tell frightening tales
from undersea wars
with great captains and great whales.

Un-needed in the deep
Your black uncaring eye
Sees all and nothing at once
Where no light Rays fly.

Released from the depths
Your fury knows no bounds.
You bring back your quarry
Without making a sound.

Life is a Bi-ach
Not a beach

Bring your mi-ti
Don't preach

Sing a song
Dream of Billabong

Corona and cabanas
Life is bananas

the tide of time
On your beach or mine
Will break and foam
With an endless moan
Take the oars and pull
For your life is more
Than what lies on shore!