Heard a song on the radio about
cold blood, some zeroes and ones.
Not sure why but it stirred up
something rather foul. You see,
she used to love that song.

Trying to focus, I knocked my head.
My eyes tuned out of the radio, its signal out of signal.

The knobs of my brain couldn't keep up.
Take me slow, please.
I walk with twisting foot.
My shoulders banging the walls of my house.

I topple over.
My vision blurred.
The signals of my radio stirred....

Sometimes I'll catch
a sentence of a song

and all at once I'm seventeen
open-eyed and wide-hearted

taking the bus home from work
late in my dad's leather jacket

worn out shoes and transit tickets
and that stupid Pink Floyd t-shirt

with hopes high as the buildings
I dreamed of living in someday

on my way back to homework,
leftovers and a messy room.

Once you said to me
that my head is like a radio
that I listen to too many songs
written by too many different guys.
In your opinion I should change channel
or completely turn off the radio
and concentrate on my life.

Sometimes I think you were right,
but I believe in Murphy's law
and I know for sure that
the song I've been waiting for
will play once the radio is turned off.

Then you said that the radio will turn on by itself
when the time is right.
You listened to my song for a little while,
just the time to decide it wasn't for you
and get back to your old-all-time-favourite.

I was hurt and happy at the same time,
because you were happy too
and because someone, finally
paid some attention to my tunes.

The faintest click of a radio button
a song that I swear I'd long forgotten

and I journey back to another time
happily quiet, but humming inside

running much faster than blue dinosaurs
I Spy much more than a boy really saw

different than walking, different like flying
moving so fast they can't hear my sighing

tremours of laughter on Radio 2
then singing out loud junior choice tunes

even when songs fade away in the hills
I'd rather be here than back at home still

wary of Jenny's sharp buckled shoes
breathing in clouds from dad's old Saint Bruno

holding on tight to my cool DB5
m'Lady's pink Rolls is off for a drive

I always I Spy with my little eye
3 for a girl and then 4 for a boy

I Spy mum’s constant quick fingered knitting
row after row with Sally still kicking

then I Spy Janet swinging her feet
I Spy other kids in other back seats

I wish for grandma's baked cherry biscuits
I see the first sign that we're near Tonbridge

these are old snatches of life in the 60s
this is me looking back from my 50s

I'll sit still back here, just one back seat song
from family trips where I still belong

I have made mistakes, who hasn't?
I have been wrong but I still try
I have been hurt and broken down
But I am at my strongest when I cry

I have been weak and I have been blind
I have been misled along the way
But I am still able to hold my head
High at the end of each thoughtless day

I know what it is like to fall
Rejection is a good friend of mine
I have learned to accept the fact
I may never be able to truthfully say "I'm fine."

But I will not focus on the bad
Or sad songs the radio plays
Instead I'll wish for sunshine
Ignore dark clouds and rainy days