Through a broken window
Covered with dirt and cobwebs
And from within an empty house
Crumbling and derelict
Even the bleakest landscape
Can look fine and good

When the water runs in
Through the sagging old roof
It makes the rain outside
Seem healthier and clean
So that drafts blowing through
Cracked and buckling walls
Make the harshest winds
Feel kind and warm

Because when the interior
Is so desolate and empty
It makes the worst of the world
Seem pretty much good enough
So why bother to change
Anything at all

                                               By Phil Roberts

It's noon in a postcard town
Pedestrians gather on tidy city squares
All I can do is stare
I've nothing to offer save for a song
A tough performance before a bitter throng
Most people need nothing but a beat
Like this monotonous street
Where heartless people haphazardly meet
Walking head down , focused on their feet
They've no time for meaningful lyrics
It's a sad time for music among these urban cynics* ..