Touching the wall I did call to the off shore of Eden for help.
But no one answered my call for all the bells in fabulous China.
Strolled through the market gate of the human race to find some lace for the daughter of the winemaker's maid.
What if I were to see the Sun disappear in the morning snow and without a show?
Who would believe me if the saints of yesterday's morn were all to break free of hell's gates?
All in all it was a scary thought that built the front wall of the house of McFrown.
Tumble down the autumn showers of golden leaves for the cattle and the sheep.
Who be knows besides the early bird of June what it's like to be caged in a basket of three wise kings.
Thought I saw a chaffinch on the windowsill.
Are we joking when the blue of ivory waters descend upon the king of mustard land?
Come all to the wall of bygone days and be gone for none at all doth remain inside the pillowcase for fear of the awful crime that's being committed in the field of Ochre Chameleon.
What if I counted all of you in the middle of a spoon with ice cream and blackberry tops?
Oh, wouldn't that be something, surely?
Now you are laughing at the dress that was blow up by the wind, but you did turn from to see what you were given to view.
Why did you turn and look away?
Look deep into yourself by the fly shore of morning's end.
Tell me what were you doing when you were under the seabed fishing for stones?
Haven't you yet taken to learning that all our hearts are in velvet sacks waiting to be packed off to the nearest crematorium?
Come back!
Come back!
Come back you have taken us back to that terrible time.
What time?
Were you not there in the doing of it and in the receiving of it?
Close your eyes and open your sight for you see too much of nothing.
Soon you will realise what it is to flush the harbour into the sea and be taken by ones unseen.
Now you've taken to frightening me with your daffodils and roses by the sunny brook.
Whoever could have foretold how evil you are in your sainthood?
If a bat can chase a cat and a rat an old hat what have we to be worrying about on this beautiful starry night?
Sit you down and be making yourself there at home for soon the dawn of a new age is about to turn everything upsy downsy.
I don't understand if the piano is out of tune and all the mad people are insanely bright.
Take a walk with me along the roads of Time and have a good time if you still know how.
How can you know?
Sure haven't I forgot how lonely you are there on your island of all nothings, oranges and peels.
Sit up and take a pill for sure you'll kill the next stone that steps in your way.
I thought you said you remembered to bring the butter in from the redbrick fridge.
I did, didn't I?
You think too much and that's as far as you can go with the early morning newspapers.
Oh, it's in the holy play and you'll never see the likes of it again.
I will, will I?
Don't be so sure for not every army has two goats dressed in emerald lay braid and talk all day about the state of an apricot oven.
Someone' s coming for I can here the planets shuffling in the trees of over there.
There is no one there except the ol' hens laying eggs in the straw of the new mowed day.
Surely, you do mean 'hay' when you say 'day' don't you?
If it were hot in the bottom of the teapot would the tae taste the same?
Oh, what kind of a place is this when the one who stokes the fire is the fire and the chimney is in the floor?
One more time if you look at me like that perhaps I'll be taking a dip in the florescent lights.
All along is not all long when you've only hours to be living on the underside of a seashore.
Watch the bat I think he is going to take the thrush.
If he does I'll kick the outside of the barrel of rainwater.
You do that and all the ripples will be appearing so they will.
Place the callies in the barrel and no more crippling be out of you.
Master beating down all day.
Whiskey bottle on his desk.
Pulling chunks of down from the sides of crowns.
Oh, how it hurts so very very much.
School?
What school?
That was not school I tell you for I was afraid of his shadow without even seeing it.
Tell me where is the mouse that ran under the desk and down between the floorboards?
It's so cold!
It's so very cold!
Dragging us he by the hair.
We did all be salty crying so we were.
Poor little puppies we wee.
Soft gentle breeze blowing.
Hush now and don't be you acrying for there are many carriers in the bed of the wild sea goat.
Where?
Where shall I find the origin of my source?
The origin of your source is within you by the table of your dreamy place.
Someone must be coming for I hear the stretching of the wind.
You do be hearing awful things when you are lying awake in your sleep.
Don't I be knowing it well.
Laughter has such a nice ring to it when it's being thrown away like a bag of light sawdust.
Remember how it use to be yesterday when tomorrow was yet still before us?
I do.
I do indeed as the lovely moon is pressed like a sponge in the kitchen sink.
Who would be of a thought that a man and a woman could be the making of a child?
So many wonders and so many wondering that it's a wonder that we don't be always with the wondering.
Holy Mary they say be the mother of their god, but I don't be knowing for it's all the same when you'd be saying it backwards by the mantelpiece.
Hop up on the cupboard and get down out of the attic to watch the races of the race.
I've seen their faces and they were covered in muck.
Sometimes when the rain falls upwards we don't be in the best of moods.
That's what I do be telling myself in these insanely halls.
Where am I?
Where I am?
You're where you were before you were where you are, no doubt.
What no doubt?
There is more doubt now in the worldly place than there ever was in here wherever that be.
Sit and rest awhile for you do be thinking awfully much for one who for the most part of the twenty-four do be so crazy silent and gentle.
How can I be quiet with me hands the way they are in these long long white sleeves?
Is it a gown or an ostrich?
Woe and behold the chickens are flying in the windows and they be taking on the shapes of loaves of bread.
Who's for lunch?
Lunch's for who?
Is it mad do they think we are?
The frost is on the window and the light is in twilight for the old boat that's tied up on the grey beach.
If someone doesn't catch the dog before your won comes in from the cowshed we'll all be in the basement up to our necks in the green stuff.
Are we in the outside world or in the inside?
Wait a minute!
Waite a minute I think I hear a new spring coming.
A saint is being made over there between eastern pillars.
I swear to myself that I've seen a vision of a forlorn tarot master swinging from the gargoyles of Notre Dame.
Was he becoming dead or what?
He was becoming a leaf in the wind.
But is he a leaf that's dead or becoming dead?
Blow blow the mighty storm of a time rooster and you will see what I mean about the Samaritan who walked by the petrol pumps in slippers.
I have seen and I am tired of the scene.
Oh.
What won't become of the forgotten Moon?
Why concern you with the Moon when there are so many stars to be viewing?
I'm the Moon and I do be always looking at the stars.
So much for breakfast when it's dished out to you in the palm of a hand.
Drink up and shut up!
Think you can shut me up with such pills, bills and quills?
Laugh again!
Laugh again you walking stick for a broom.
Oh, I wonder if Napoleon liked Maltessers?
That fellow do be eating anything he do be getting into his hands.
Where have you gone you the brightest star in the heavens?
Why you do be needing to be talking of Napoleon?
Quicksand makes one stand up for all that's slipping under the carpet.
So it does.
So it does.
Oh, I'm becoming so tired.
Must be the palm breakfast.
Must be the palm breakfa …
Hearing in the Write: Safeguarding the Spontaneity of Wondrously Uninhibited Speculations
But no one answered my call for all the bells in fabulous China.
Strolled through the market gate of the human race to find some lace for the daughter of the winemaker's maid.
What if I were to see the Sun disappear in the morning snow and without a show?
Who would believe me if the saints of yesterday's morn were all to break free of hell's gates?
All in all it was a scary thought that built the front wall of the house of McFrown.
Tumble down the autumn showers of golden leaves for the cattle and the sheep.
Who be knows besides the early bird of June what it's like to be caged in a basket of three wise kings.
Thought I saw a chaffinch on the windowsill.
Are we joking when the blue of ivory waters descend upon the king of mustard land?
Come all to the wall of bygone days and be gone for none at all doth remain inside the pillowcase for fear of the awful crime that's being committed in the field of Ochre Chameleon.
What if I counted all of you in the middle of a spoon with ice cream and blackberry tops?
Oh, wouldn't that be something, surely?
Now you are laughing at the dress that was blow up by the wind, but you did turn from to see what you were given to view.
Why did you turn and look away?
Look deep into yourself by the fly shore of morning's end.
Tell me what were you doing when you were under the seabed fishing for stones?
Haven't you yet taken to learning that all our hearts are in velvet sacks waiting to be packed off to the nearest crematorium?
Come back!
Come back!
Come back you have taken us back to that terrible time.
What time?
Were you not there in the doing of it and in the receiving of it?
Close your eyes and open your sight for you see too much of nothing.
Soon you will realise what it is to flush the harbour into the sea and be taken by ones unseen.
Now you've taken to frightening me with your daffodils and roses by the sunny brook.
Whoever could have foretold how evil you are in your sainthood?
If a bat can chase a cat and a rat an old hat what have we to be worrying about on this beautiful starry night?
Sit you down and be making yourself there at home for soon the dawn of a new age is about to turn everything upsy downsy.
I don't understand if the piano is out of tune and all the mad people are insanely bright.
Take a walk with me along the roads of Time and have a good time if you still know how.
How can you know?
Sure haven't I forgot how lonely you are there on your island of all nothings, oranges and peels.
Sit up and take a pill for sure you'll kill the next stone that steps in your way.
I thought you said you remembered to bring the butter in from the redbrick fridge.
I did, didn't I?
You think too much and that's as far as you can go with the early morning newspapers.
Oh, it's in the holy play and you'll never see the likes of it again.
I will, will I?
Don't be so sure for not every army has two goats dressed in emerald lay braid and talk all day about the state of an apricot oven.
Someone' s coming for I can here the planets shuffling in the trees of over there.
There is no one there except the ol' hens laying eggs in the straw of the new mowed day.
Surely, you do mean 'hay' when you say 'day' don't you?
If it were hot in the bottom of the teapot would the tae taste the same?
Oh, what kind of a place is this when the one who stokes the fire is the fire and the chimney is in the floor?
One more time if you look at me like that perhaps I'll be taking a dip in the florescent lights.
All along is not all long when you've only hours to be living on the underside of a seashore.
Watch the bat I think he is going to take the thrush.
If he does I'll kick the outside of the barrel of rainwater.
You do that and all the ripples will be appearing so they will.
Place the callies in the barrel and no more crippling be out of you.
Master beating down all day.
Whiskey bottle on his desk.
Pulling chunks of down from the sides of crowns.
Oh, how it hurts so very very much.
School?
What school?
That was not school I tell you for I was afraid of his shadow without even seeing it.
Tell me where is the mouse that ran under the desk and down between the floorboards?
It's so cold!
It's so very cold!
Dragging us he by the hair.
We did all be salty crying so we were.
Poor little puppies we wee.
Soft gentle breeze blowing.
Hush now and don't be you acrying for there are many carriers in the bed of the wild sea goat.
Where?
Where shall I find the origin of my source?
The origin of your source is within you by the table of your dreamy place.
Someone must be coming for I hear the stretching of the wind.
You do be hearing awful things when you are lying awake in your sleep.
Don't I be knowing it well.
Laughter has such a nice ring to it when it's being thrown away like a bag of light sawdust.
Remember how it use to be yesterday when tomorrow was yet still before us?
I do.
I do indeed as the lovely moon is pressed like a sponge in the kitchen sink.
Who would be of a thought that a man and a woman could be the making of a child?
So many wonders and so many wondering that it's a wonder that we don't be always with the wondering.
Holy Mary they say be the mother of their god, but I don't be knowing for it's all the same when you'd be saying it backwards by the mantelpiece.
Hop up on the cupboard and get down out of the attic to watch the races of the race.
I've seen their faces and they were covered in muck.
Sometimes when the rain falls upwards we don't be in the best of moods.
That's what I do be telling myself in these insanely halls.
Where am I?
Where I am?
You're where you were before you were where you are, no doubt.
What no doubt?
There is more doubt now in the worldly place than there ever was in here wherever that be.
Sit and rest awhile for you do be thinking awfully much for one who for the most part of the twenty-four do be so crazy silent and gentle.
How can I be quiet with me hands the way they are in these long long white sleeves?
Is it a gown or an ostrich?
Woe and behold the chickens are flying in the windows and they be taking on the shapes of loaves of bread.
Who's for lunch?
Lunch's for who?
Is it mad do they think we are?
The frost is on the window and the light is in twilight for the old boat that's tied up on the grey beach.
If someone doesn't catch the dog before your won comes in from the cowshed we'll all be in the basement up to our necks in the green stuff.
Are we in the outside world or in the inside?
Wait a minute!
Waite a minute I think I hear a new spring coming.
A saint is being made over there between eastern pillars.
I swear to myself that I've seen a vision of a forlorn tarot master swinging from the gargoyles of Notre Dame.
Was he becoming dead or what?
He was becoming a leaf in the wind.
But is he a leaf that's dead or becoming dead?
Blow blow the mighty storm of a time rooster and you will see what I mean about the Samaritan who walked by the petrol pumps in slippers.
I have seen and I am tired of the scene.
Oh.
What won't become of the forgotten Moon?
Why concern you with the Moon when there are so many stars to be viewing?
I'm the Moon and I do be always looking at the stars.
So much for breakfast when it's dished out to you in the palm of a hand.
Drink up and shut up!
Think you can shut me up with such pills, bills and quills?
Laugh again!
Laugh again you walking stick for a broom.
Oh, I wonder if Napoleon liked Maltessers?
That fellow do be eating anything he do be getting into his hands.
Where have you gone you the brightest star in the heavens?
Why you do be needing to be talking of Napoleon?
Quicksand makes one stand up for all that's slipping under the carpet.
So it does.
So it does.
Oh, I'm becoming so tired.
Must be the palm breakfast.
Must be the palm breakfa …
Hearing in the Write: Safeguarding the Spontaneity of Wondrously Uninhibited Speculations
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