It’s 7.00am on a Saturday so its grab a pot of coffee and singalong with a friend time.

The words are a jumble of thoughts as I read the news


There’s a barber in Brazil who thinks he’s in Seville
He sings arias just while he parts their hair
And there’s a make up girl at Disney who paints faces hiding misery
She’s just waiting for a chance to lose her cares
And in downtown Shepton Mallet is a man whose breeding parrots
To attack the principles of better folks
He’s been playing flute for hours from ideas that have flowered
And his mother thinks the boy should come back home

In the Carnegie Deli is a man who strokes his belly
He remembers when his waistline was much smaller
He shares pickles with a princess who is showing signs of distress
And he curses that he was not born much taller
Simon Chandler says he’s beaten every bit of his addictions
He’s cleaner than he’s ever been before
But he still craves for a white line or a pill to fix the bad times
And its always Bette Davis he adores

I once promised Sonia Lewis I would tackle all the sewage
That had run out of the gutter during the rains
But all she really wanted was to go to visit Maui
And wear lei’s and pretty mumu’s for her pain
But she only reached the airport before they had to report
That her ankle tag would force her to remain

So I will eat at least three kippers before I start to whisper
All the secrets that a foolish man can tell
And I’ll drink diet coke and fanta and remember how I left her
In the lobby of the famous Chelsea Hotel
And like a victim of the movies I will accept any floozie
Who will offer me a body for a coin
It’s a trick of light and memory the spending of a bad penny
A sensation that rarely leaves the loins