Archive for June 24th, 2005

Looking ever so slightly mad…

June 24, 2005

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More Lyrics…

June 24, 2005
Farewell Angelina

The bells of the crown

Are being stolen by bandits

I must follow the sound

The triangle tingles

And the trumpet play slow

Farewell Angelina

The sky is on fire

And I must go.

There's no need for anger

There's no need for blame

There's nothing to prove

Ev'rything's still the same

Just a table standing empty

By the edge of the sea

Farewell Angelina

The sky is trembling

And I must leave.

The jacks and queens

Have forsaked the courtyard

Fifty-two gypsies

Now file past the guards

In the space where the deuce

And the ace once ran wild

Farewell Angelina

The sky is folding

I'll see you in a while.

See the cross-eyed pirates sitting

Perched in the sun

Shooting tin cans

With a sawed-off shotgun

And the neighbors they clap

And they cheer with each blast

Farewell Angelina

The sky's changing color

And I must leave fast.

King Kong, little elves

On the rooftoops they dance

Valentino-type tangos

While the make-up man's hands

Shut the eyes of the dead

Not to embarrass anyone

Farewell Angelina

The sky is embarrassed

And I must be gone.

The machine guns are roaring

The puppets heave rocks

The fiends nail time bombs

To the hands of the clocks

Call me any name you like

I will never deny it

Farewell Angelina

The sky is erupting

I must go where it's quiet.,Angelina.html

Fred Unwin

June 24, 2005

Doug told me some rather depressing news about the infamous Fred Unwin, , something of a local hero and a friend of Doug’s who has been ravaged by age and forced to move into a nursing home, helpless and dependent upon super-efficient but emotionless carers, plumping up his pillows and wiping his brow.

These are all assumptions, of course based on my own experiences of seeing my grandparents in the same position. I saw my maternal great grandmother just before her death when I was nine and, at the risk of sounding melodramatic, it put the fear of the grim reaper into me for years. That pale, skeletal figure on the bed that barely appeared human. They shouldn’t have let me see her. But then there are others – those oh so wise child-psychologists who seem to have assumed the right to dictate the way in which every child in the Western world is raised regardless of individual needs – say you should force children to confront the realities of death. It worked for me – too well. I spent years contemplating the ageing process. But then I spent years contemplating the aftermath of what I as a child thought was an inevitability – a nuclear war. Cheerful little brat, wasn’t I? It has occurred to me that I might derive a subconscious thrill from fear, rather like people who are addicted to horror movies and claim they hate them. Efexor, however, has removed my worries which, in itself, is worrying.

Hold your breath for the Life and Times of the Great Fred Unwin…

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