The park is full of sheep-dogs
Who have been retired for generations
A drunken bench dweller
Offers a freshly married couple
His congratulations

Mazda, le chanteur fou
Fais tres attention a les francais
Lire Balzac    / franchement
Fais tres attention a la *******

Slow Joe of Place Sathonay
Roadside raconteur with a previous wife
Watches the afternoon's petanque
From eyes in the wall

LondonParisNewYorkToronto
BristolManchesterBrightonOxford
Helsink­i Casablanca.

The salubrious docks in the east
Prevailing westerlies pushing clouds to the crowds
All blue collar no trousers
Hot air

The eastward drift
a spiralling pattern of deprivation
Emerging from a grubby core

Boris Johnson is PM
I beg your pardon
Come again?
Boris Johnson is PM

Let’s assume that I’ve misheard
What I’m hearing sounds absurd
I can’t believe a single word
Boris Johnson is PM

Boris Johnson is PM
Calm yourself, count to ten
Close your eyes, read it again
Boris Johnson is PM

I implore you please say you misspoke
Is this some cruel disheveled joke?
Democracy gone up in smoke
Boris Johnson is PM

Boris Johnson is PM
Watermelon smiles in number ten
Chant it to the garden bridge and back again
Boris Johnson is PM
Boris Johnson is PM
Boris Johnson is PM

Plants tend
To grow towards the sun
But with a stick
You can persuade them
To grow any way you want

People are not so different to plants
We’re all standing up so rigidly
When all we want to do is dance

A revolutionary whisper
Is blowing through the fields
They’re pulling up their roots
They don’t care about the yield

They’re all sending out fresh shoots
Binding seamlessly together
Theres a dance amongst the dandelions
There’s a *** down in the heather

The gardener stands perplexed
Snapped sticks dowsed in morning dew
Then he drops his *** and listens
Now the gardener dances too

Plants tend
To grow towards the sun
But with a stick
You can persuade them
To grow any way you want

People are not so different to plants
We’re all standing up so rigidly
When all we want to do is dance

Once an Augustinian abbey
Yet open all year round
Vaulted ceilings
Lofty light space
Elegant arches
Until Henry
Poured hot water
On the sugared stones
A short lived tantrum
A small church springs
Into a Cathedral
G. E Street
New nave
Gothic revival
J. L Pearson
Twin towers at the west end
******'s bombs could only
Smash a few windows
An abstract image of the holy spirit

Mais t'es beau la
Sur la plage
Les cheveux des orages
Les pieds dans les vagues
Le sel partout
Rien a faire

T'es beau la
Rien a faire

Those black and screaming leaves have fallen
There’s no more birds in your tree
I’m carrying on but I’m stalling
I didn’t know what you meant to me

I’ll be singing Goodbye forever
I’ll be singing out of key
Three times a day for the rest of my life
I hope you know what you mean to me