Spooks

The truth is a stranger, who keeps passing you by
Deceit is a lover you can never satisfy
Secrets the reward, paid for with your lies
Sincerity the cloak that you wear as your disguise.

Who can you trust and who can you turn to,
when living a lie and all that concerns you,
is who will betray you with a smile and a kiss
and who are the traitors bearing gifts.
And how do you, how do you, how do you sleep at night.
And how do you, how do you, how do you sleep at night.

Your home is not a safe house, the walls all have ears
and life in the shadows brings suspicions and fears
Footsteps in the silence, follow you at night
and secret rendezvous are just a way of life.
The best of times

These were the worst and best of times,
for thieves and robbers to commit their crimes.
They’d take your money in the blink of an eye
Steal your living and bleed you dry,
with no fear of the law, no shame or remorse.
No conscience, no feeling, not guilty of course.

Hiding in the shadows of ‘Ivory towers’
Clandestine meetings in dimly lit bars
Plotting new capers to top up their coffers
Cunning scams, non- refusable offers
With no fear of the law, no shame or remorse
No conscience, no feeling, not guilty of course.

But they can’t steal freedom and they can’t steal pride
They can’t steal hope, although they’ve often tried
They can’t steal honour and they can’t steal trust
They can’t steal the respect that they don’t give to us

Just like Vultures they can pick you clean,
with the sharpest beaks that you’ve ever seen
They’ll roll you over with a smile on their face
They’re not worried that they’ll ever be traced
With no fear of the law, no shame or remorse
No conscience, no feeling, not guilty of course.
Summer of Love

Hanging loose at the Chelsea Drugstore, getting high on the Chelsea vibe
Take a trip through Kensington Gardens, to open up my mind.
Portobello Road on a Sunday, for psychedelic Bric-a-brac
‘Granny takes a trip’ on a Friday, but she’s never ever coming back.

The Summer of Love has come and gone, drop out, tune in, turn on
A glimmer of light in a cold dark world, turned down, turned off, blown out.
Psychedelic counter culture
Peaceful protest revolution
Mystic musical renaissance
Dropped out, turned off, tuned out.

Petuli oil and scented incense, Kaftans and Afghan Coats
Paisley patterned T-shirts, Bell Bottoms and organic loaves
The ‘String Band’ and Leonard Cohen, grooving on through the night
‘Easy Rider’ late night showing, Peter Fonda is out-a-sight.

‘Woodstock’ and ‘Monterey’, ‘Hide Park’ and the ‘Isle of Wight’,
festivals for a generation, looking for a new way of life.
Lennon and Martin – Luther – King, Dylan and Alan Ginsberg,
Optimistic prophets, hoping to change the world.
Don’t Look Back

Wouldn’t it be nice to turn back the clock
go back in time and restart the plot.
Wouldn’t it be nice to wipe the slate clean
Feel like you did when you were sixteen
Wouldn’t it be great to make no mistakes
be a success and have what it takes.
Wouldn’t it be good to be understood
treated with respect like you know you should.

Don’t waste time thinking what might or could have been
If opportunity had knocked upon your door.
Celebrate what life has given you and
don’t look back with regrets anymore.

Wouldn’t it be great to pile up your plate
eat all you like and never gain weight.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be cool as ice
win every throw and roll of the dice.

Don’t look back thinking what might or could have been if
Things had turned out in a different way.
Celebrate what life has given you and
don’t look back, just live for today.

Nature’s way

She’s mysterious and puzzling, magnanimous and charming,
a cruel mistress and a disrespectful Libertine.
She has awe inspiring beauty, is seductive and beguiling,
a natural born survivor with a sting like a honey bee.

Whatever mood that I might find her in,
I know she’ll never disappoint me.
No matter how much seasons change and age,
to me her beauty always stays the same.

She’s loud and ostentatious, enchanting and bewitching,
ruthless and relentless and a lover with many needs.
She’s vulnerable and gentle, alluring and delightful,
resilient and resourceful and stronger than toughened steel.

Fire with Fire

I can hear the silence screaming, can’t you see what’s going on
as we dance beneath the melancholy moon.
Should have listened to the whispers when they told me I was wrong
to try and kiss the shadow of a fool.

I’m not the kind to change my mind,
so I refuse, refuse to lose.

I’m gonna burn down your walls, I’m gonna laugh while they fall and
love’s gonna rise from the ashes of lies.
Gonna fight fire with fire.

We children are addicted to the habits that we learn
they lock us in our prisons made of glass
and the web that they keep spinning, teach us all to wait our turn
praying for the chance to leave our past.
Oh but I will find the strength inside
‘cos I refuse, refuse to lose.

I’m gonna burn down your walls, I’m gonna laugh while they fall and
love’s gonna rise from the ashes of lies.
I’m gonna burn down your walls, I’m gonna laugh while they fall and
love’s gonna rise from the ashes of lies.

Gonna fight fire with fire.
A winter’s Tale

A watery sun on a cold, cold autumn day.
The swallows have flown and winter’s on its way.
I close the door on a world that’s turning grey.
Hard times are coming and I fear they’re here to stay.

But I won’t let the darkness steal my soul
I won’t let the darkness in from the cold
I’ll barricade the doors I won’t let it in,
‘till the warmth of the sun returns,
to set my spirits free, to set my spirits free.

A bitter wind is blowing through the empty trees
and hungry wolves scavenge through the fallen leaves.
It’s time to find shelter from the coming storms.
There will be hunger and many frosts before the thaw.

Black crows are wheeling over spent and barren fields.
The Eagle is grounded with a bent and broken wing.
An eerie silence spreads across the frozen earth.
The light is fading on tired and fragile world.
A Modern Tale

Running round in circles chasing your tail, for another buck for another sale.
Choking in your cars stuck in traffic jams, pressure piling on thinking
why oh why oh why has it all gone wrong,
why oh why has the pleasure gone, why oh why must I carry on, why oh why.

Waiting at the station still half asleep, for another week of balancing sheets.
Packed into sardine cans treading on feet, while fighting for a seat thinking
why oh why won’t this ever end, why oh why am I here again
why oh why can’t I break away, why oh why.

Slow down unwind, let the cares of the world go
Open up your mind let the memories flow
Like the sweet wines of summer, warm breezes playing through your hair
and the soft scent of jasmine, with blossoms floating in the air.

Herded into office blocks and factory floors, automatons on conveyor belts.
Praying for the day to end you watch the clock as it ticks and tocks, thinking
why oh why won’t this ever end, why oh why am I here again
why oh why can’t I break away, why oh why.

An American Tale

Downtown in LA, Tony takes the Dachshund for a walk,
while his mistress pours another coffee from the pot
and checks the Nasdaq to see if her nest egg is still safe.
No need to worry, it’s just another perfect day,
it’s just another perfect day, it’s just another perfect day.

Meanwhile in LA Tony closes out another deal,
while his wife burns all his plastic in the shopping mall.
Then lunch with Susie, flirting with the waiters at the bar
who love her big tips, it’s just another perfect day,
it’s just another perfect day, it’s just another perfect day – in a

Big screen Hollywood fantasy,
everyone seeking their fortune and fame.
No time for life in the slow lane.
Got to keep chasing the American dream.
Got to keep chasing the American dream.

Meanwhile in LA Tony meets his buddies for a drink,
at the tale bar, where the girls are always in the pink
Champagne’s flowing, private show is in full flow.
No guilty feelings, it’s just another perfect day,
it’s just another perfect day, it’s just another perfect day – in a

Meanwhile in LA Tony leaves and creeps back to his wife,
though nothing can stir her, she sleeps with prince Valium tonight.
In the morning breakfast meeting half past eight,
still hung over, for another perfect day,
for another perfect day, for another perfect day – in a