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FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW.

A yoke of slavery around your neck
Crushes the energy and gaiety
Out of each and every one of your blood cells.
Your heart is like a Cubist painting
In shades of dark blue and green.

You are frozen in time and space
Like a bull mesmerized by the bullfighter’s cape.
You wrap up the landscape in a sheet of illusions
And dream of an impossible escape.

It is the inescapable tedium of ordinary life
That refuses to let us believe
That tomorrow will look after itself.
God may feed the birds of the air
But he doesn’t help those of us on
welfare.

The speed of the city makes you dizzy
As your struggle between reason and passion
Reaches a kind of inevitable climax.
A climax that is always sooner or later an anti-climax.


Just what is the point of putting colour in your life
When everything is clearly all black and white.
The road to righteousness is lined with wolves in sheep’s clothing.
But we have no choice but to travel on towards that goal.

Onward through the neon lights and skyscrapers.
Through congested roads of frenetic cars.
And endless hours of endless minutes of endless seconds.
Grabbing whatever material we may find
And turning it into Art or soul food.

It’s just Man’s innate cruelty that breaks you in the end.
Makes you into a life-size silicon model of yourself.
With no feelings, thoughts or stories to tell.

Those who hunger and thirst for truth
All came to you for your pearls of wisdom
But all you could provide was a series of contrasts
And a map without borders between any two places.

You cast off your yoke of slavery
And ran off across the plains
Like a Siberian dog leaving tracks in the snow.
Maybe someone will follow you.
Or maybe they will never know
Just how far you have gone.
Footprints in the snow
That’s all I can leave behind.
Footprints in the snow.

A MAN LIES BLEEDING.

A man lies bleeding
Where a boy used to play.
A monkey stands laughing
Where a saint used to kneel to pray.
Every moral and every value has been transformed from its original meaning.
The cars will run over the body on the road
And squash it until it becomes just a black stain on the ground.
Fast lane, me-first people have no time to stop.

A whole country starved of food and religion
Stumbling from year to year with the barest of minimum needs.
This is life reduced to the lowest common denominator.
We’ve flushed culture down the toilet
And replaced books with advertising brochures
Selling us the latest, the newest , the bestest piece of junk.

A woman lies waiting
For a notion of love that will never come her way.
She wants a man as gentle as a butterfly’s wings
When all she sees are dogs with two dicks and no heads.
In this land of forgotten rules and regulations
I made a vow to stay true to myself.
But if I’m the only one trying to stay on this road
What is the point of anything at all?
Even as I talk they’re knocking down churches
And replacing them with huge hypnotic football screens.

A world spins backwards on its axis
Turning our heads the wrong way.
And now a man lies bleeding
In a world which has lost its way.
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