I'm sitting on this bench
and it's raining, it's draining
my memories are fading yes they fade
I used to be a salesman by trade
but play the flute every night
until one day I got myself
in an awful awful fight
we were having a duel
but with flutes nothing more
until I out-tooted his toot
and he pushed me to the floor
he said Iíd never play again
and I called him and idiot
so right there and then
he cut off all my digits

Back in the '30s
my great uncle Ernie
lay on his death-bed
and gave his flute to me.
I knew
if I practiced hard
I'd go far.
No mistake.
I'd be great.
I'd be a huge jazz star!
Then in '44
on the fields of war
a stray Allied bullet
hit me to the floor.
It bounced off my teeth
and then killed 10 men
and I've been busking the Underground
ever since then.

We're 2 fat tramps
on the Underground tunnel.
Making sweet music
down silver funnels.
Scraping out a living
in our slightly embarrassing
bubble of poverty
on the London city streets.
The capital of the wealthy
discretely avoids
any eye-to-eye contact
with our undignified noise.
They've got stupid beards
and they smell like wee
but they're the happiest two men
on the London city streets.
How can this be?
Did they beat the disease?
Did they beat the disease?
Did they beat the disease?
Did they beat the disease?
Blessed are the poor
and those who mourn.
Blessed are the weak
and those who seek.
Blessed are the tramps
on the city streets.
Blessed are the cured
of the evil disease.

Oh thank the LORD
that I'm done with this skin.
This flimsy little membrane
has been worn down to nothing.
All wrinkled and thin
since the curses of sin
have been relentlessly killing me.
Outwards and in.
Oh good grief!
The relief!
The sense of release is beyond belief.
And now I can
finally meet with the chief...

--Gravestone of a blues player--

I lingered on that stinker of a sphere
for 60 odd years.
And everywhere I went
I took a lifetime full of tears.
Steadily I built up
a massive scrapbook of memories:
Fears..
Regrets...
Worries....
Miseries.....
My nemesis was always with me -
like a splinter in my kidneys
infecting everything from within me.
I was sad as the winter
and the summers were bitter.
The glory of the sun
made me feel even emptier.

One day I was sitting in the river
gold sieving
and I saw Robert Johnson
on his porch that evening.
Drinking cheap whiskey
and swearing at crocodiles..
But mostly
he was just strumming and singing.
Sharing his pain
with all the other lonely souls
who felt the same way
about their screwed up worlds.
Believe me there was a load of folks
singing along with him.
The scene was overwhelming
and it got me to thinking
that I'm not the only guy in the world
who feels like he's sinking.
Maybe I could use my blues
to make a living..

I traded in my dog
for an old 6 string
and started fiddling around
with the fiddly little thing.
It was then that I realised
that I wasn't that good.
And I missed my dog.
And I didn't know what to do.

I decided I might go and see
Robert Johnson play.
Perhaps he'd have some wisdom
to send me on my way.
Right there on his porch
I told him how it was.
He said:
  "Aaah, it's ok kid.
  I'm not that good either.
  You don't need to be all that good.
  Have you never heard of Weezer?"
    "But I'm even worse than that.
    Could you just give me some tips?
    Show me some chords?
    Or some mean blues licks?"
His dark eyes narrowed
to a mean pair of slits
as he leaned in towards me
to whisper in my ear.
his breath was shaking
with a slight fear
as he whispered real quiet
so that nobody could hear:
  "I never practiced hard
  to get this damn good.
  I got supernatural help.
  Maybe you should too." 

Figured that Mr. Johnson
must've been talking about the church.
So I went to see the preacher
and I told him my dilemma.
He was stella on the organ
but he was rubbish at the guitar.
But he knew more about the blues
than Robert Johnson did by far.
He showed me
the comprehensive history of misery.
Who began the pain?
And who will take the blame
and end this epic game?
My significance in this mystery
was finally revealed to me.
For the very first time
I smiled with glee!
But believe me
I was certainly not done
with all my misery.
I sucked at the guitar
and I never made a penny.
I endured all these blues
awating eagerly
my departure from this place
to my Master out in space
and the end of all sadness
by the smile upon His face...

Aaaagh.

Everything's huge
and the air is so thick
with magnificence
it makes me heave till I'm sick.
Curled in a ball
and squeezed from each side
by the searing
blinding
beauty of it all.
I arise from the floor
to recieve my prize
and I realise
it's finally good to be alive.
The overwhelming size
goes through my eyes into my head.
I begin to praise the LORD
that I'm finally dead.

Look out for germs!
Look out for germs!

Introducing the thesis
of these pieces of audio faeces:
A Lament for the human species.
Afflicted by this most
contageous and evil of diseases.
My decaying carcass wheezes.
Dying a day at a time
till evetually I'm a body in a box.
Because the King says:
  "The wages of sin is death."
(Romans8:13)

I thought i'd learn kung-fu
to battle all the sadness
and the badness in this place
but it's only good on big stuff
'cos unless im out in space
there's a million micro-organisms
chewing at my face

Maybe if I cover myself
from head to foot
in a high-density
titanium anti-hazard suit
I can hold onto my loot
and live forever.
---
Too late!
I can feel the virus
begin to sever
my body from my life-force.
Slipping forever
and ever
slowly
deeper
into the layer of the disease.
How much longer can I
hold it together?

My King-Kong Palm
is no match for these germs
they sink into the cracks
and th ewrinkles in my skin
penetrating flesh
like an acupuncture pin
I need a little something
to protect me from this thing
i need a suit!

Look out for germs!
Look out for germs!
Look out for germs!

My Big Brother - He's going to get you.
One way or the other - you'll see.
My Big Brother - He's going to get you.
You crazy little sucker! You'll see.

Sweet sweet summer sun.
Ooooh the summertime
makes me feel all warm inside.
So warm inside ooooh.
I like daffodils!

Billy-Bob started his new job
at the great plant nursery
he was earning summer money
for his second year at the great university
he didn't know anyone
and he felt a little bit lonely

But that was ok.
He had a little black book
to keep him company.
He'd sit there every lunchtime -
just him
the black book
and a big Cornish pastie.
All by himself
he was happy as can be.
And everyone was happy.
Or so it seemed...

In fact the troops at the nursery
began to feel real uneasy
with Billy-Bob's reclusive lifestyle
and self-sufficiency
but by far and away
most infuriatingly...

...Was his little black book.
What on earth did he write in there?
If we could just get a look.
As time went by
the workforce grew paranoid
that the strange new boy
was totally deranged -
and was writing out plans
to have their deaths arranged.

  "Why are these people
  all looking at me funny?
  I'm just writing songs
  about this and that.
  They stare at me
  like I'm some kind of
  crazy old man."

After about 3 weeks
Billybob's colleagues were really edgy.
They did a bad bad deed -
put some deadly weed killer
in Billybob's cup of
Earl Grey tea.
Milk and no sugar.
Sounds good to me.

Pull back swing
don't take your eye off of me
unleash the energy and send me
over the land and all the sea
I'm travelling right now
at a great velocity
how much longer can I evade
the force of gravity?
I'll land in a while
I'm coming down now
and there I lay alone
on the mound
on the ground
I hope on not lost
---shhh, I can hear the sound
of feet drawing near-----
The sun glistens on the silver shaft
as its placed behind my body
the air shudders around me
as I'm smashed towards the green
it's where I'm meant to be
as soon as possible
and once again I see
the earth beneath me as I freefall
and it looks so nice
this was all made for me
everything from that bunker
to the old oak tree
so I put my trust in your swing
together we will win
pull back swing

Pull back swing
and hit that little thing!
Yeah!
Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me!
I been sat here under this tree
precariously balanced
on this weenie little tee
for hole number 3
waiting extremely patiently
for You to time Your swing
and hit me real hard like Bruce Lee.
(Yoikes!!)
Golly gee.
I was getting all twitchy
but You truly timed everything
immaculately.
From way up here
I can see the whole town.
I can see the sea.
I can see people like insects
crawling through the city.
The sweet air
whistling around the
circular depressions
in my scuffed up skin.
On the horizon I see my home:
a hole with a pin
approaching like a very fast thing.
Your technique is perfect
and it always has been.
Pull back swing

I saw you when you were
just a little baby.
Squirming in a pool of you own blood.
  "Save me!" you screamed.
Suddenly, it seemed,
the need for intercession
threw me into action.
I reached out my hand to you
in compassion.

I stumbled into this city
to find company.
A place where a boy can rest his head
in relief.
I had chattering teeth -
wound up to unleash themselves
on old-timers at the bar
in tall stories.
I didn't have to look far.
Before me I saw a que full of hipsters.
I was freezing.
They were pretty much
just wearing knickers.
I joined on the end.
We filed in slowly.
2 big bald guys searched and ID-d me.
It was dark inside.
No one I recognised.
A figure aproached
through the coloured flashing lights
and said:
  "Kiss me."

I saw you when you were
just a little older.
All looks and brains
and becoming bolder and bolder.
Bursting at the seams
with adolescent dreams
of ditching your retainer
and doing whatever.

I choked on my milk
and I tripped on my laces.
The dizzy little stranger
slipped off into the crowd of faces
grinding on the dance-floor.
The moment was lost
but I didn't feel sore.
Because
right about then
everything got weird.
A sense of foreboding
filled me with paralysing fear.
The crowd began to cheer
and form a human sphere.
Stuck in the middle
was the dizzy little stranger -
grinding like a psycho
to the beats that were passed
to the centre through the air
by placenta from the speakers.
Weak like a foetus.
Trying to appease these
evil pagan gods of hip-ness,
in the hope that they'll
cross this one off their hit-list
of ugliness...
loneliness...
unfashionable to the eyes...
These week-end rituals,
these habitual sacrificial night-lives:
It's all lies.

I saw you when you were
just a little baby.
But I guess that
maybe you don't remember all that.
You're piling up your own little stack.
But I still remember
every word that you said..
everything that you did..
every book that you read..
I'm fattening up a real big cow
for when you come back.

I run real fast across your TV screen
while pixilated fireballs shoot past
at unrealistic speeds,
and killer-weeds jump and scream -
shooting killer seeds at me.
Looking real mean.
I annihilate the team
of evil machines.
Grab the extra lives
and leave this bad dream.
I awake in a room.
Aching.
Wheezing.
Suddenly my nemesis
smashes through the ceiling
revealing sweet beeams of sun -
reflecting off my ray-gun.
  "Eviltron, your time has come."

Way back in time
I was barely a twinke
in my designer's eyes.
A vision of pixels in His mind.
He lovingly put me together.
He said:
  "Let's have some light."
And BLAM! I was alive.

I wander around this
pixelated world
at the mercy of
whichever boy or girl's
got a hold of the controls.
Some of them are ok
and some of them are lame.
But none of them are good enough
to complete this game.
It's always the same.
I die every night
in electronically simulated pain.
Losing lives.
Again and again.
Hee hee!
When you've died this many times
it's hard to stay sane.

My only slim chance
is to beat the final boss
- Eviltron -
and finally finish the race at last.
My designer surpassed with this task.
Created a game so hard
that nobody could pass.

[The evil Eviltron gives an evil laugh]

Only my designer
can save my sweet soul
from endless deaths
in this pixelated world.
If only He'd pick up the controls
and end this computer game
Once and for all.

When I'm floating around
you know if I'm upright
or upside down
look around, look inside
every thought, cannot hide
put me here, put me there
never lost, always in your care
right behind me, just in front
don't need to say it
you know what I'm thinking of
blow my mind with perfect love

Knit together a masterpiece
with the finest components
you could ever conceive
in a life-size incubator
watch me grow
even in darkness
Your light will glow
precious thoughts
too many to count
woven in Your image
every moment laid out
complex machinery
sown in love
every time I rise
right there by my side

Woah woah! Swinging all around
smashing explosions
I think she's going down
grab onto something
as the ship capsises
she's going down like
the great titanic
is there an earthquake outside
the plates must be pushing
am I safe inside this cushion
I can't be too sure
what are they playing at out there
I'm beggining to wonder
if they even care

I put my hand to her stomach and "THUMP" -
I hear him kicking.
Put my ear to the ceiling -
I can hear her being sick again.
Woh! I get dizzy
as she rolls around in pain;
Jonah in the whale -
was the whale tame
(was the whale tame?)?
I'm in a bubble of blood,
and the blood runs cold
when I hear them
screaming on the outside.
The hurricanes happen all the time,
and I already feel old,
but the night is so young,
and I've got air bubbles in my blood.

Mother. Father.
Bleeding hearts are
beating faster
to my birth.

My blood, air bubbles
my folks, i love you
your blood, my troubles

Rivers flowing
but I don't like the taste
I'm zoning out
and I'm losing the race
the tornado is screeching
winds batter the house
I can't understand
what all this hostility is about
smashed to teh ground
barking hounds
eyes stuck shut
and I'm feeling around
searching for something
that will keep me safe and sound
some breathing apperatus
a helmet, and some goggles

Air bubbles in my blood
and it feels kind of fizzy,
and it tastes kind of sour,
and it makes me feel dizzy,
and its giving me gas,
and I'm feeling kind of
queezy in my tummy.
Aaaagh! What the heck?
Muffled voices.
Terrible choices.
Feel slow and stupid,
and happy and sad.
All hands on deck,
I think I'm losing the joystick.
Your blood's gone fizzy
and I feel sick. 

Mother. Father.
Bleeding hearts are
beating faster
to my birth.

My blood, air bubbles
my folks, i love you
your blood, my troubles
mother, are you ready?
father, im coming
mother, get ready
get ready, get ready

I feel love.

Time-------
is running out
I've got so much to do
so much stuff
before i pass right on through
to where ever
light is passing through
at the end of the tunnel
and pullin glike a black hole

Frail and tired at the back of forever.
9 months old, trying to hold it together.
Tired of thinking. Steadily sinking.
I've seen everything there is to see here

Heads up and Race for the ocean!
Forget what's behind me
and look straight ahead.
Chased all the way by the ancient Egyptians -
Chariots..
Spears..
Horses..
Whips..
And the Pharoh's right there,
with his head-dress on,
looking right at me
with a sword in his fist.
Stranded on a paradise beach
inbetween the army,
and the terrifying waves of the Red Sea.
But You never let me down once yet.
And You never left me alone for a minute.
And you never let my heart stop beating,
through life, or birth, or death.
I can see your right hand smash down
into the middle of the ocean,
and the river runs red.
Grab me by the ankles
and drag me backwards through the hedge.
to the other side
just like You said

I love it here.
Please,
don't make me leave into the night.
I can feel your heart beat,
and I'm warm all the time.

You're loving me from every side.
Incessantly.
Your love never slides,
and I'm so warm and free.

I am so warm and free.
Your love is all around me.
One day I'll see your face -
So beautiful I'll cry.
Right on!
From the beginning,
straight into my belly.
I didn't do anything to deserve
this goodness to me.

I got 9 months in the womb
before I pass through it
into death I guess.
'Cause who knows what's waiting
on the other side of this?
Be it hell or bliss.
Is there life after birth
do you think?

I suppose no one knows
too much about it at this stage.
But I'm getting on in months
and my age is against me.
As I grow
my world isn't getting any bigger -
stretching all around me.
Closer.
Thinner.
I feel like a microwaved dinner.
(What's a microwaved dinner?)
What's a church?
What's a saint?
What's a sinner?

In the beginning I was thinking
about nothing in particular.
The universe was vast
and circular
and wet.
And always in debt to the darkness
which was all around us
for 1,000,000 miles.
With time and wisdom
my mind is thinking
that the universe is shrinking
and closing in on me.
What the heck?
I bumped my head
on the ceiling of forever.
And I'm kicking the walls of the skies.
  "Soon,
  you can open your eyes little man."
What's an eye?
Oh God please
let there be light.

Ow crap!
Ouch!
What the heck are these things
in my face doing to me?
The darkness has turned to pink -
whatever that is -
and something
on the outside of the universe
is shining inwards.

The end is near I can feel it
I'm scared but I don't know what fear is
what's at the end of my universe
so many questions I might just burst
but I have a feeling it might happen
to my cacoon first

Something told me it would al be ok
but I'd rather nto find out and stay
it could be so incredible
but my outlook is doubtful
so I'll sit here
adn let my mind wander
and count the days
'lets hope the darkness stays away'

Good and bad
right and wrong
day and night
I'll try and hold my head up high
who's scared not I
but if I'm honest I'm petrified
'cos I don't know whats outside

I need a pair of x-ray specs
then I could see outside and inspect
the landscape that comes nect
if there is such a place
is it space
'What's space?'
all these thoughts are scaring me to death
I need to know that I'm safe

I'm restless
I've been stuck in here to long
and I'm just not sure
what exactly's going on
but I've had enough and I'm furious
I'm on the edge and feeling wayward
I've got a plan
are you in or not?
I can get us out
are you in or not?

You hold in the silence
and give me 5 minutes
to think about my answer.
This could all end in disaster.
End in bandages and plasters
for the both of us.
Mark my words,
it always does.
You - little brother - are a doofus
and you know it.
Like last week when you did a little poop
and turned the whole universe
into stinky hot-chocolate.
I sure would like to leave
but I got dreams of my own, bro.
So you go your way
and I'll go mine.

Kev?
hmmmm, I'm not coming

Whatever, I can't waste time
talking to you guys all day
I've got bigger fish to fry
and I need to get me some supplies
for my journey
I'm setting off in 2 days time
I guess I'll see you suckers
on teh other side

On the other side?
But is there life after birth?
Is there a portal
with the girth for us to pass through
to ouside of the universe?

The big day, the breakout
I'm all by myself
but ready for anything
I'm heading upwards
I've seen a hole right up there
near the oesophogus
right now I feel just
like the guy in Cliffhanger
dangling precariously
with a nasty drop
directly beneath me

I'm heading south
and its smelling kind of crappy.
Like a sloppy bouncy castle
made out of used nappies.
(What's a nappy?)
I don't know
but I'm not ever going to use one.
This is disgusting.
I'm going home.

Oh man
this tunnel's getting pretty thin now
but I can see outside
and even get my fingers out
I guess I'm gonna have to turn back right now
even though I've come so far
man this is typical
I thought my plan was precise and clinical
must have taken a wrong turn
'cos this tubes way to small
thought I'd take my life into my hands...
but ended up a fool
what am I doing here?
what happens next?
who holds the answers?
who clears the debt?


Hey where did Kev go?
  Who's Kev?
He's the dude. That's his name.
  What's a name?
I don't know.
  Doofus!
Shut up.
  No you shut up
Behold.
There he goes.
He's getting swallowed
by a big bright light,
to the glory of the daytime
from the comfort of the night.
Alright! I think its time buddy.
  You go first.
No you go first.
  Shut up and hug me.
  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
I want to ride the pony.

Oh sweet father of few words,
you saw the angel from the LORD
pass by you in the temple.
But your faith was all little
and you wouldn't believe him.
Never the less I was conceived
at the dawn of the new age,
and until the time that I was born
you had no speech -
the moment you had something to say.
Gabriel said:
  "I am on who stands in the Glory of God,
  so you don't tell me what's not possible.
  You can have your voice back
  when you've mastered your thoughts."

Oh sweet mother of shame.
How many years of pain?
Childless and barren.
Tree with no leaves on.
The Glory of God says:
  "Your time has come."
I, her son.
She, my mother.
The saviour comes after me.
The Almighty above her.
An only child
with 1000 brothers and sisters.
You've got morning sickness,
and your husband is crazy.
Raving about angels
in the presence of God's Glory.
And now God's Glory is standing
inside of a woman's belly.

Oh sweet aunty Mary,
I can feel you near me.
I can hear your feet
walking on the ground beneath me,
from here in the branches
of this aging tree.
Your voice is singing its greetings.
My mother blows around in the wind,
and 1000 leaves fall to the ground.
Your presence is disheveling.
  "Am I so special?"
she says,
  "that the mother of my Lord
  should come and visit me?"
The golden storm falls
and leaves us all naked.

Locked in a precious embrace.
Our mothers pressed their
pregnant bellies together.
My saviour and I put our ears to the walls
to hear each other's
little feet kicking
hearts beating
minds thinking out loud

Why does he have to be
constantly sucking on my toes
relentlessly chewing on my feet
it's tight in here thatís for sure
but I'm certain thereís no need for that
maybe he's hungry, peckish
or just discovered
he has a mild foot fetish
and what's this
thatís digging in my back
it feels like the sharp pincers
of a crustaceous crab
'what a crab'
i think there's one behind me
im talking to myself
and this is driving me crazy

Ow ow ow...
If that little punk doesn't
get his ugly foot out of my face
real fast,
I'm going to bite every last
one of his stupid toes off
with my gums.
Feel like sardines in a can.
Bullets in a gun.
You and me beloved brother,
we are an argument just waiting to happen.
So back off man
before I slap your head silly.
Wrap your umbilical cord around your little
legs.
I'll leave you crying like a baby
that stepped on a lego brick.
Heck, I don't want to -
so don't you make me do it.

Look,
I never really wanted to come to this party
and I don't really appreciate you ignoring me see
'cos sitting in this coo with you 2
aint my idea of fun
wish I had been born an only one
but can the see me?
can they hear me?
am I transient?
am I a figment of imagination
only made for entertainment?
this insistence on ignoring
my existence is wearing thin
you know, so, so, so,
to announce my presence
i give one of their backs a jab
but only turn around
and hear him calling me a crab
ah these little losers
are gonna be the end of me
gonna smack their heads together
then they'll notice me


We are the same, but very different.
Like Cain the weathered drifter,
and Abel the bleeding victim.
Like Esau the firstborn,
and Jacob the low-down trixter.
Will we be at war
just like our ancestors were?
Who the heck is he,
with the crazy old look in his eye?
Hiding there behind,
I guess he must be the silent kind.
From time to time I wonder
how it feels to be you guys.
The pressure is rising,
and the temperature is high.

Not so long ago we were small
and everything was ok
I didn't know what was happening
but I at least had room to play
then my home began to shrink
and close in
and i found myself
stuck where I am right now
and skin pushing in at my chin
I have hannibal in front of me
and lobster boy behind
and for some reason I love them
even though I'm stuck between them
like a battery hen
can't wait to make a great escape
can't wait to get outside
and get my feet back
and remove this jabbing from my spine

If I focus really hard
I'll make these stubby fingers sharp
fashion little scissors
from the fidgety fingers
reach over their shoulders
make sure I don't slip
reach for their umbilical chords
and snip snip snip

Here at the bottom of the wishing well
I can feel the gentle squeeze of
a whole lot of pennies on me -
smells metalic and bloody.
I feel like a king.
Here in the money
with a bucket and spade.
And a smile on my face
like I made the grade.
But I cant grant your wishes
and I cant count this money.
You people are excited
but you don't even know me

Here at the bottom of the wishing well
hopeing that I'm doing swell
Throwing in spare thoughts
all expecting and unattainable
laying all their cards on the table
hoping for a little one
so pure and true
just like the One in the stable
But in truth it's gonna be a little bit more
like Cain and Able
it's a gamble
it's a gamble alright
the future holds instore
a great fight for salvation
but there's evil lurking in the night

I'm getting bigger by the minute
like the tower of Babel.
Knock me to the ground
into dusty rubble.
My own human nature's going to
burst this bubble.
Time to walk home to Jesus...

Feeling a pressure all around me.
Engulf me with spleandor and love,
because you love me so dearly.

Holy cow!
What are the chances
of ending up in here with you?
Lay back dude,
lets watch the cells go by.

Heads down -
race for the prizes.
Little round faces and tales behind us.
All the volts of 1000 electricity pylons
couldn't generate this much excitement.
Out of my way you son of a hormone,
You're too slow
and you'll never make it
to the ovaries before I will.
I'm willing to kill you
if you're willing to die;
let our DNA perish inside.
And if you're undecided
then turn back now,
because the stakes are too high
for your screwing around.
May the breath of life
never shine on your genetic spine.
If you're not for real -
go home.
So be it,
neck-a-neck to the finishing line.
See the egg like a moon on the horizon.
The birth of a new star in the sky.
The tragedy, trials, and glory
of those that live and die.

A beautiful thing
no preconceptions, tainted visions
conditioning the mind is clean...

Deep inside a cavern
where we've all been once before
kicking and eating and being
and floating in juices
and growing new pieces
that's what unique is
with no self-image
A trapdoor below
at the bottom of the mother ship
'I think she's gonna blow'
not yet you got to wait a bit
about nine months
then you can blow this joint
and get swallowed by the world
and it's endless days and nights
Take a tip from me
don't chase the wind when your free
from your mummies tummy
and what ever they say
it's all just lies
'cos everyone gets born
and everyone dies
All the little people
are just the same
isolated from this sick sad
twisted game
sitting in jelly looking like no other
sitting on the level with their
sisters and brothers