The red crimson liquid splatters onto the leather upholstery
As the gleaming machine passes through the crowd in the sun
Remember this day November 22nd 1963
As the day America stood still
Oh and how the ladies are howling
And the children cling to their mothers hands
Crying not at the sight of death but rather at the noise
Men fall to the floor in fear dreading another shot
As the zapruder films, one shot, two shots, dead
Pandemonium, chaos, no one really knows what to do
The cars eerily carry on driving along
The president of America John F Kennedy
Has been assassinated today

Red, dead
It’s all been said
Mars

Well hello there dead Mr Johnson
Only recently deceased
Standing by the foot of my bed
Where the quilt cover is slightly creased
Firstly can I just get this out there
Are you real or a made up creep
Is the supernatural really alive
Or is my brain just taking a leap
Was there something you wanted
Did you not like how you died
Well one thing I really can tell you
Is that your hair piece washed up in the tide
Sad that you chose to go that way
So cheaply and utter careless
I bet the family got a bit of a shock
When they found your head completely hairless
I’ll tell you this while you slowly fade away
Your death was met with much sorrow
It’s amazing how quickly the reaper takes us
Or in your case hair today and quickly gone tomorrow

A tiny little island
Made of unusual interesting people
All milling around
Doing pretty much nothing
The beach is completely deserted
Why is a beach deserted
The streets empty as space
What a place this is
It’s warm yet cool
And the shops sell towels
Which is funny
Cause nobody is on the beach
An ice cream parlour
Just near the sea
Is nice not for the ice cream
But because the girl is flirting
I wander into a music shop
And buy some tapes
It’s not like home
Because it’s quiet
What a place this is
But I have to go home
Why oh why
Do I have to go home

Pencil, rubber, ruler and pen
Across the grass
And we’re here again

Teachers, preachers and crazy creatures
Ageing buildings
With crooked features

Gym, showers and trampoline
The smell of coffee
And nicotine

Ties, blazers, bags and shoes
A gas explosion
Making the news

Smart, dumb, bully or fool
Mushed together
Make a school

Pitter-a-patter
I hear it scatter
Rain in my brain
Poured down from a cloud
Revealing its presence
Nice and loud
I toss in my bed
Thinking about tomorrow
About it hitting my head
When will it stop
And will I eventually hear
The final rain drop
Pitter-a-patter
The liquid matter
As rain comes down again

I watch my wife swim
As she cuts through water like a knife
And remember my privets need a trim
She’s done breast stroke all her life
A champion in the blue
But a disaster in the household
I guess it’s something Ive always knew
If truth be told
Watching her frolic in the water
Doing length after length after length
I realise family ignorance
Is possibly her biggest strength
She smiles at the young men
Don’t recall her smiling at me
I just take her at nine thirty in the morning
And pick up her up at twenty past three
Today it’s all going to change
Cause today I’m going for broke
Whilst I arrange our divorce
She’ll carry on doing the breast stroke