Near

Hey, hey, hey the end is near
Cries a man or a woman
But the end has always been nigh
Even a million years away is near when you think about the universe
Infinity makes it all small

I suppose I mean don't worry about it

Or at least that isn't significant

He's strange
He's the strangest stranger
What kinda guy is born in a manger?

alright

It's very sad
A sad, sad situation
The saddest I know,

I've known sadder,

Don't get me wrong,

But it's very very sad

God story

It had been over a year since I had seen it at the BFI on the Southbank and I had mostly forgotten about it, but it came back to me in a dream, that line from that film I saw; Diary of a Country Priest, All Is Grace.

escapade

The breeze from outside cools my feet
Which wear five day worn socks
In a thick shoe

She sheds a tear
But do not say a word,
It stings their broken rib

You're very brave,
A mother might say, or a grandmother
Or subsequently a lover

I am taking her to the museum
by the sea
Where it stands in all its glory
Proud, being the world's largest

and then,

Just like a snowflake
says the alien
As the diamond melts
In her small infant hand.

Children come, Children go

I walk to school
The path coldly glitters
Jack Frost has been out
Leaving his white shadow
In the cold
Which makes my ears burn,
(Dizzy)
And drunk on childhood
I stumble into a flower
Covered in fine frost
With ever so delicate a trace;
A fingerprint in ice on petal

The flower, not a rose,
Fore it should not be a rose,
I suppose was the same colour as her varnish,
When she pressed it,
A light green

But now, here, drunk on beer
It reminds me of you
It was your fingertip
And, with the songs I now know,
The colour of your colour,
... and
However many ___s later
It turns pale blue in the snow.

The old art critic

The old art critic
to me
There's no beauty
it's horseshit
There's no ugly
it's pixiedust