Gig night out

Empty chairs freeze vacant stares

Echoes of what once was there

Now candle burning on it's own

While in my mind plays The Ramones

In rhythms we are bound alone

Bunting flapping in the breeze

Hypnotic web spins in the tree

And sergeant pepper eyes up me

While I'm drinking antifreeze

Eastern European man

Collecting glasses in one hand

While lonely shawled woman plans

Her escape to promised lands

The band arrives in shabby shock

Singer borrows a ciggy shot

Soon coalesce within the room

For music to set up our mood

While in my mind plays The Ramones

In rhythms we are bound alone

Watching over me

Meat, heat

Gob, job

My angel came to me

From the bosom of a god

Head, fuck

Broken wings

My angel heals me

When her body sings

Hand, sweet

Hand, relief

My angel knows

when to stroke and when to squeeze

Freak, creep

Creepy freak

My angel watches me

As I sleep

Appetites

Live like, you find it so funny

Work like, you don't need the money

Love like, you're the greatest sinner

Wank like, you've got immaculate fingers

It's my appetite for life

That makes me a bad man

It's my appetite for life

That makes me a mad man

It's my appetite for life

That makes me give a damn

It's my appetite for life

That makes me who I am

Dance like, nobody else is looking

Give like, you are only fucking

Dream like, you are in a coma

Grieve like, you are an eternal loner

Talk like, words are sentimental

Share like, you're an elemental

Taste like, sugar is your only spice

Shit like, you are shitting out your life

It's my appetite for life

That makes me a bad man

It's my appetite for life

That makes me a mad man

It's my appetite for life

That makes me give a damn

It's my appetite for life

That makes me who I am

Sing like, singing is a malady

Laugh like, you've suffered a fatality

Scream like, you take it up the backside 

Leave like, you're going to the afterlife

I refuse

I refuse to be a victim

To my way of thinking

I refuse to be a patsy

Of this modern living

I refuse to be a victim

To the workings of my mind

I refuse to be a patsy to

The morals of our time

You Scratch Me

Would you play me a quartet

If you had the arms to spare?

Would you dig up corpses

If I were lost in a mass grave?

Would you seek me out

If you had an itch down there?

I got the arms enough my dear

The arms enough to care

Would you turn a pirouette

Or does turning make you sick?

Would you ransack heaven

To help me escape from it?

Would you help me out

If I had an itch down there?

You turn me inside out my dear

You lay me truly bare

Would you sing me a libretto

With your dying breath?

Would you gladly undertake

An immortal quest?

Would you scream and would you shout

If we had an itch down there

I've got the words enough my dear

To fashion love in air