Time

Why should Father Time be a father?
Why not an emu, or a mule?
But I am given to understand
That emus make excellent fathers.

And time takes every relevant thing,
Every subversive notion,
Every turn of phrase that dances
On the limits of delight

And places it in a home
Where people wear funny clothes,
The parties are extravagant
And the toilets awkward.

That mule, Time, is undefeated,
They refuse to lose,
Sheer determination pushing stars
From one sky to another.

The jingle jangle replaced by a strange chime,
The dust in the wind blown into a crevasse,
Pressed and reformed into something new
Full of the unforgettable moments

No one remembers.

Why should Father Time be a father?

Kremlin Blues

I went to Russia and I got ‘er done,
Me and some orphans had some fun,
You never know who’s filming when you’ve blocked out the sun,
Now the little man has me under his thumb.

Oh Lord, it tastes so sweet,
Honey on the hands, cognac on the feet,
It’s a mistake I won’t repeat,
“Have a cigar before I take away the sheets.”

I sold my soul to Russia and I got ‘er done,
Me and Mississippi had some some fun,
The walls have eyes, there’s nowhere to run,
How do I tell Jehovah what I’ve done to his Son?

Oh Lord, they washed my feet,
And pressed wild flowers in ways I thought were discreet,
There’s a hole in my heart where the angels beat,
Drums made of rubber with fists of concrete.

I went to Russia and I got ‘er done,
Me and some orphans had some fun,
You never know who’s filming when you’ve blocked out the sun,
Now the little man has me under his thumb.

Russian Party