Walking down a street you might have pulled in

Walking down a street where there is still old sex there
Even though they've gone
Like stains on a duvet
My Google map yields no surprises

Did you say bye...

Or did your battery die?

Were we in text heaven?

Like angry Jews; waiting for bread
Which is forever unleavened

Why I can't ever look at trees

They looking back at me
keep changing coats and hats
And looking like lions and cats
sat on top of each other, pawing, and fawning
That's why I can't look at trees

And don't talk about chalky walls
crumbling, eating sand, quick fix, man made fences
They looking at me
Through grit
They looking at me

I look at floors
Floors where paws been,
Walls been
And that's OK

Mashed Tarmac Pudding

(this needs a fiddle accompaniment)

The right delete comes after a word
That staggered forward in a wrong shake
The lost letters in
The right out

If words could smell they'd be letting one out

If I'd got a dictionary I'd be letting you in

The wrong way to say this is to let my mouth speak

Instead I've got a dinosaur with time on it's hands

The lost letters out
And the right letters in
We staggered things backwards
Just to let the words out


The wrong way to say this is to let my mouth speak

If I'd got a dictionary I'd be letting you in

Too late for any worse than compliaments

How unlike the scrotum of man to produce such an awkward and boring digital plan
We've painted then lost the face and 'how unlike the legs' this race.