Fly so fast the years they do
and my mind is not as once it was,
forgetting things such as dates and names
and going round as though I´m lost,
in every room I stop and wonder
why did I come in here,
what is it, that I´m looking for,
not a clue I fear.

Have you seen my reading glasses
Yes! she says, you´ve got them on your head,
and what about my car keys
I´ve looked everywhere, including in the shed,
and when I bend, why is it
that I always grunt and groan,
and my back today, is not the best of backs
I am so racked with aches and pains.

My eyesight´s not as sharp these days
and my hearing, Sorry, what d´you say,
no longer do I walk upright
and my thinning hair is turning grey,
but although the body´s ageing
and the memory´s fading fast,
my brain still thinks I´m eighteen
and I can do things, as I did in the past.

So I´m off to run a marathon
and the channel I shall swim
and when I get home from clubbing
I´ll be heading for the gym,
I´ve parked my zimmer in the corner
and my pillows I have plumped,
the douvet I have pulled up tight
as I start to snore and dream, and trump.

Bed is the target
Not my bed
That's on the floor
And its a bit mishapen

Its covered in fur
And its got hidden biscuits
And a bone I put there
But can't get out now

No, my bed isn't the target
Its YOUR bed that's the target
The one with the douvet, the pillows
and fluffy, fluffy sheets

Its got a big springy mattress
And it looks nice sometimes
When its all covered in
MY paw marks

But it doesn't smell nice, though
Its smells of flowers
I would like it better
If it smelled of fox poo

But after I roll in the fox poo
You never let me on the bed
So how am I going to get it
to smell nicer

That's what I think about
When we're out on a walk
And you throw the ball
And I ignore it, and go for a roll

I roll in squirrel poo
Not as nice fox poo
But I make it nicer
by jumping in the river

You think a quick shower
with the garden hose
Will dissipate all these lovely smells
But you forget the shampoo...and I WIN

I get in the house
Dry myself on YOUR dressing gown
But still I smell
absolutely lovely

Like lamp posts, and drains
And bins
And that really nice smell
When I've been running in the wind

And no one's locked the bedroom door
So I run and I jump
And I roll and I roll
On YOUR bed

For five whole minutes
Then I hear you coming
Slowly stepping up the stairs
So I jump off your bed

Then jump into mine
Then wait and wait and wait
Then suddenly you jump up
And leave

I've no idea where you go all day
No idea, at all
But you've got a sneaky idea
Where I am

You know I'm on your bed
You know I'm making it smell lovely
Just for you when you come home
Hope you appreciate it.
Lots of Love From Your Dog

Behind backs that would snap if their heads were to turn
Between stucco walls, under creaky floors, secret cigarettes burn

Giving fate back to god, allowing time to just roll into smoke
Despite shouldnt’s, besides sorry’s instinctual thoughts provoke

Earth shattering, nothing mattering, death dawning kind of kiss
Heart racing, breath pacing, bodies in an endless ocean of guilty bliss

For-shadowing risky statements, stuck on tongue, never to leave my lips
Dodging probing questions, when’s, where’s, why’s and if’s

Awaking eyes, empty room, slept away the whole afternoon
This day is dead, gone forever, put to bed by the moon

Pounding head, restless mind, only smoking to pass the time
Only lost until I find, only want what should be mine

Secrets kept are secrets rare, haunting, taunting me to share
Should I, could I, do I dare, why the hell would anyone care

In corridors, behind desks, over pots that boil
Around a small table, beside barrels of used cooking oil

Adjacent sideways glances, words burn backs that don’t hear
Whispers gain pace and reach solemn ears
Mean while nothing has felt so good for years

Between sheets and douvet, lungs rise and fall
On clean white pillows, eyes close and thank the stars for it all

Yearning hearts beat next to decent tunes, in a pristine room, a calmness looms

Inside secret moments unspoken words pour from finger tips,
Lightly, only slightly tracing neck and cheeks and jaw and lips

Holding on to my own hand,
Breathing deeply into a new day.
Eyeing the edge of the douvet,
Considering what lies on the otherside.

They are not here this morning,
There are no phantoms in my mind.
Pulling me to stay asleep,
Urging me to give another day.

Mourning something that never was,
is a stupid and relentless task,
with no satisfaction or conclusion.
No.

Today is a new day,
Today is a new me,
Today is a new life,
Starting without the preoccupation,
And self deprication and endless isolation.
Breath deep and enjoy the new,
thats the lesson i give to you.

Winter Sunday

Lets stick around here, and wait till we can say
this is how i spend
a cold winter sunday

lets hide away
out of the grey

you dont even have to stress
its cold outside
And nothing will change that
no matter how you try

so stay under the covers
its warmer this way,
its how i spend
my winter sunday

Ill cook you pancakes, and sit around till noon
just me and you

bring half the bed to the TV screen
watch our shows
anything goes

You dont have to worry,
dont have to stress
cause with me and the douvet
this time is the best

as classic as can be
Its warmer this way,
Its how i spend
my winter sundays.