Start
stop
horse and crop
the cart comes on behind.

Streets lined with cobblestones
wooden wheels
always feels like
rag and bone
rag and bone
sometimes through a megaphone

days gone by
I wonder why
copper is six quid a ton.

If ever 'whatever' comes
I'll be ready
whenever that is.

Atlas cries as he holds up the sky
Chicken Little is living the dream
the jelly has babies
the world's full of maybe's
Campbell's condensing more cream.

Somehow I awake
so now
I am woke
let's see how that plays out.

I'm getting my act together
I might take it out on the road,
but the weather's against me
my knees are quite dodgy
and my hip is not hip anymore.

Untied
still they tried
to avoid
drifting off to
sleep.

I once went prospecting for gold
was told it was up in those hills
I found bugga all bar some soil
and black coal,

The doctor prescribed me some pills.

it's time for,
prayer for the day

I hope
I make it down
or up
depending
on which way
I'm going.

I opened my eyes and it was raining
it would probably have been raining
if I had kept them shut but then..
..and then
I thought what then?

see how thoughts are cut down in their prime.

coffee tastes the same in spite of the rain
the radio still plays and
the day's still the day I woke into.

it's 5:15 or 5:16
and I wonder if this is known as
living the dream.