mmmmmm in the midlands i'll ponder

Hello my friends.
Are we all well?
I sit alone in a punk office in the Midlands.
I feel frustrated.
Played with Leftover crack last night.
My wonderful voice,the song bird in my throat fucking left me again????
I could of cried.
i could of fuckin wept into the faces of the punk girls with their pretty hair.
And i am a tad worried.
Coz it is happening too often.
I've tried warming up
I've tried warm drinks
What the fuck is happening?
I've been playing since the fucking early 90's man????
Why has my voice decided to be a cunt???
Why am i writing this shit???
Yes,i guess i need to go to a doctor/throat person/singing teacher.
But i thought maybe like magically by writing this,it would make my problems go away.
Coz i, like an alive Paverotti(..whatever his name was)have to perform again in a few hours.
To Mansfields finest son.
Lenny.
the birthday boy
and Debs
the birthday princess.
I can't wait to eat all that part food.
Mmmmmm,did i spy a chilli,slow cooking in the kitchen.
I'm in for a treat thatis for sure.
Let's all raise our glasses to the weekend.
I unlike Leftover Crack,don't have a message for the punks.
I won't be telling you to "fuck the police"
Unless it is quite literally to stick it to a hot one.
Save your energies for the positive.
Maybe you have an elderly neighbour that don't get many visitors.
Maybe you could bake her a cake?
Yup
"Fuck the po lice"
"bake her a cake"

That's a message i could get behind.

mmmmmmmmmm
Well done.
And you know what?
Nah,nothing.
x

In and out

In and out within the hour.
Midnight booty calls to posh hotels.
Black taxi..s and ivory ball gowns.
Room 134 and i was fuckin your ass while the dancers danced downstairs.
I didn..t come,
neither did you.
your screaming made me uncomfortable.
That silk hitched up,
your tits strapped in tight.
Bed sheets stained for friends to see.
Your trophy fuck,
gigalo on call.
I refused the return cab fare.
Enjoyed feeling the whore
as the penguin noticed your red slapped face.
The Indian man drove me home.
"Do you mind if we drive fast?", he asked.
"No,just don't kill us both.I was once in a dreadful accident.

God.

I`m really angry today.

Ages ago,back in the mists of time and everything,some pigs and other authority figures go and nail up an innocent tradesman.

Chippy he was.

To make matters worse,geezer was the son of god.Now if i had been there,i`d ave stormed the gaff witha load of punk rock jew mates,got him down and bricked the citidel or whatever building they were oppressing the people from.

Thats the spirit Jesus,have a sip of me tea.We`ll have you back on ya feet in no time.

But what does he do?

Only goes and Steams up to heaven taking our sins with him.

Cause,me.Well i fall to my knees."Take me with ya Lord.I wanna play in the garden like in the Last Battle by C.S Lewis".

"No my son"he says"You gotta stay down on earth and gather the punks,prepare for war.It`s time to loose individuality for good".

There you go then.

The Lord has spoked.