Cash, card and mobile, please.*
Had his hood on and made a tough

Face of some sorts as he flashed
What looked like a blade, only

Smaller. Sorry, mate. My phone
Is in my hotel room, my money is

All somewhere between my kidneys
And liver, but I have these two

Fists, and I'm losing my girlfriend as
We speak, so PLEASE come closer

With that pathetic excuse for a knife,  
So I can use it to pick what's left of

Your heart from my teeth after
My anger is vented.

I don't care if it's Islington;
Did you hear about the Viking at

Stamford Bridge? I'm back. Don't
Ever mug a Norwegian.

Don't ever try to mug a Norwegian.
Don't ever try to mug a Norwegian

Poet. I still have £200 in
My pocket. And a tongue as sharp

As anything I've ever been
Threatened with. Boy.

Two moons in our fables and one on her shoulder
Zero gravitation when my eyes behold her
Painstakingly nurtured to escape from within
The face of the moon was drawn on her skin

The real one is white and glimmers with pride
Her moon drawn green will now and then hide
But after I laid eyes on her cratered skin
The whole of her moon had changed me within

I could see right thru the fortress' walls,
I knew what they enclaved
Beaten by an ocean full
of canary-yellow waves
They glistened like the stars reflected
from a moon-lit sky
Scattered like a million diamonds,
it's beauty; mesmerized  
Tho seaweed dark as forest green
did fill the ocean floor
Both translucent, & befuddling  
I could only wish to explore
For I have never seen a castle
rest in a sea of grime  
& with its image now engraved
Forever in my mind!  
& tho it's walls we're callous; thick
I thought it could still work
If only I had persisted  
(Instead, I went berserk...)
But is love not an incendiary?
For those who've gone insane?
& so it's best to resist the urge--
Your heart you must contain!

Sharing books, sharing stories,
getting the read, each on each other.
Everybody has their tales
that we share, share with each other
Epic yarns, so close to you,
may seem dull to another.
But tales are made,
made to be told.
They bring us close together.

What about those stories lost,
blown past with last years weather,
There's stories in the skies above.
There's stories in the heather.

We search in life, to find a way
a way to make it better.
We search and find a way to share
that brings us all together.
A way to shine amongst the grime
with all our words and letters.
Words that carry all we know
are lighter than a feather.

What about those stories lost,
blown past with last years weather.
There's stories in the skies above.
There's stories in the heather.

A love bound by the centuries,
is stirring on the lawn.
Scarlet, Crimson, Red and Green,
awoken with the dawn.

The passion in the roses,
that brings the beauty through.
Is a passion we should try to find,
inside me and you..

The sunlight in the morning,
that brings a brand new day.
Is something that we can embrace
if we try to find a way.

The passion in the roses
that brings the beauty through
Is a passion we should try to find
inside me and you..

And when the Sun is falling,
lower in the blood red sky.
The thorns you once had in your side,
are like a crown you wear with pride.

The passion in the roses,
that brings the beauty through.
Is a passion we should try to find
inside me and you..

The passion in the roses
and all thats truely true.
That Passion that was always there
is inside me and you.

The walk to school this morning
was an interesting affair
we talked of life and jellybeans
as laughter filled the air.
Your cape it started flapping
In the sea shore breeze
You shouted you were flying
higher than the tallest trees.
You kicked a hundred pebbles up
to orbit round the moon
and on your head you placed a wig
of finest seaweed green.
Then as we approached the gates
you ran inside to play
your cape gone south
your wig askew
that's how you start your day.
The children all dressed neatly
hair parted, brushed and combed
but you my boy, in cape and wig
the finest of them all.