Wind leave the houses
Wind leave the trees
Wind leave the rivers
Concentrate on the seas

Wind don’t hit the rooftops
Wind don’t hit the gate
Wind don’t hit the tram lines
Your going to make me late

Wind stop shaking my car
Wind stop shaking my house
Wind stop shaking my little cat
It has to catch a mouse

Wind are you not tired
Wind are you stopping soon
Wind are you taking the proverbial’s
I’ll just emigrate to the moon

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