A psychedelic dot-to-dot
A book for every hippy
A book they cannot end or stop
The flashbacks keep them trippy
A psychedelic dot-to-dot
A book for every hippy
A book they cannot end or stop
The flashbacks keep them trippy
Time is sand on a beach. Where the only certainty is where we've walked. Don't stop to collect it, for then we're merely the hourglass. Better to enjoy the feeling of it between our feet. Sense every grain. Run, too, with time. As far as we're allowed. The beach goes on forever.
My weather app says,
"It's 3 degrees and it feels like 3 degrees."
Oh, Summer, when will I see you again,
My woman in love, overseas.
It's cold today
It's minus one
That one is me
Outside I'll shun
I'm stuck in bed
Which is quite true
But to be fair
I need a brew
I'll just get up
And make a pot
Then back to bed
Where it is hot
I hate the cold
And it hates me
We don't get on
As you can see.
My feet don't work like they used to
At the end of my dodgy legs
Which in turn connect to my back
Which cracks like the shells of eggs
I don't let it get me too down
It doesn't bring me to tears
I'll wait on the ground floor for now
Until my jet pack appears
My dog is distant
He's here having dreams
The snoring persistent
He's running through streams
I climbed the ladder in her tights
And I got higher and higher
But then I was turned down, twice
She's a denier, denier.
You're the M1 for me
I've gone off the A43
The M25 has lost its sex drive
And the A12 just goes to the sea
Beeching
without hesitation
Leaching
from station to station
Preaching
for the good of the nation
Teaching
control by castration