Mum would shout and scream when dad would come home. Drunk. When she asked him where he'd been, he'd say "Up the. Clissold Arms". Chatting up some huzzy, but he didn't mean no harm. Sunday mornin
Bide my time, . Everything will be in line, . Mystic rhyme, . Nine and three and five are mine, . Memories, . Past, future, now, . Show me, . Just where man's destiny will lie. . Human race,
See the beast,. Got such a hold on you,. Every way you turn,. But don't hang around now,. It's too late for politics to save you. It's funny can't you see the dream,. Just hold it tenderly in yo