Pink, that was the sky tonight
Pink and grey in the dying daylight
Wiped over the view from ear to ear
Makes them all naked but warm and clear
Those embroidered old men that watch the shores
Proud but lazy they gently bide their time
For soon will be night and false flattering glare
That hides their wrinkles from all who pass there
Will hold them for hours without critical eye
Still now for a moment they hold their breath
While day boasts its last
In triumphant pink

I know how God wants me to live
and in my mind, my all I give
But my intentions through the day
Are countered by a call to stray

Faced with sugar-coated sin
My feeble will it soon caves in
My concience dulled, I do not see
The man who hung upon a tree

I blindly walk into the flame
Until at last he calls my name
Arrested by the words he taught
I'm taken to the highest court

Before the judge my crimes are laid
But 'cross the top is written 'PAID'
The judge is looking straight at me
'Your debt is paid. You are now free.'

He offers clothes of perfect white
But I'm not sure I heard him right
'I can't be free. I've failed too much'
Subbon I ignore his touch

And insisting that my cause is lost
I leave to build myself a cross.

By the thoughts of other's deliberations
By relaxed smile in black torment
By my song in hearts set free to fly
By blind sacrifice in a land of pride
By patient consistence in the dry place
By your dance of joy I watched, and cried
By gritted teath of courage and hope
By every step on the path of truth
By justice and grace when others turned
By heart and will of truth and love
By secret honesty and quiet confession
By invisible watermark on a paper world
By a life spent getting up again
By my life I saw in you

Beckham's kick and Lampard's head
A whole hour we had lead

Now terraced grief sits swathed in red
England's win, swiftly dead

The mourners gather hearts of lead
Hopes of glory now are fled

No more the hallowed turf to tred
Englands players - early bed

First you said you loved me
Now you're not so sure
My happy jolly feelings
Just fell right through the floor

I was thinking plural
but we were 'we' no more
And everyone advises
And on and on they bore

I want to stop and tell them
My heart is really sore
Perhaps I'll sit for hours
Or scream and shout and roar

Perhaps I'll do a smelly poo
And pop it through your door
I think then I'll be over you
What was your name again?

Such exquisite anesthetic the 
notes that decree the seconds
Shal­l never more be known, 
their remembrence like a flickering,
gent­le soothing, yearning that 
matches pleasure for sorrow
in such p­atient terms that each 
moment stands, breathes and 
steps slowly­ without a glance
t'ward another time when
unknown tears and smil­es
shall crown more glimpses
of the relentless serenade

The singer sat in silence
The drummer ceased to drum
Keyboard fingers played no more
Musician faces glum
Tired bass player hangs his head
The vocalists are dumb
Art and Lutherie is dead
Only harmony now heard
Blind feedback in my head.