Once in royal david's city stood a lonely cattle shed, Where a mother held her baby. You'd do well to remember the things he later said. When you're stuffing
And ride with us young bonny lass With the angels of the night Crack wind clatter, flesh rein bite On an out size unicorn Rough-shod winging sky blue
(words and music by david palmer) Grey the mist --- cold the dawn; Cruel the sea and stern the shore. Brave the man who sets his course For albion.
And here slip I --- dragging one foot in the gutter --- some only son's mother. Baker Street casualty. in the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap
Tear it down in double quick time To get the 'A' truck shifted 'bout midnight The locker rooms are empty but the strobo tuners Still spin with their pitching
Just a little touch of make-up, just a little touch of bull Just a little 3-chord trick embedded in your platform soul You can wear a gold Piaget on your
Who would be a poor man A beggar man, a thief If he had a rich man in his hand? And who would steal the candy From a laughing baby's mouth If he could
Away out in Egypt in the valley of kings Where the mummified pharaohs Pretend dead in their sleep Don't touch, never ever steal Unless you're in for
Pick up my wings and fly Into a constable sky. Look down on the world and try To make you out on the distant ground. Lonely toy in a lost toy-town. Suspended
Critic of the black and white It's your first night The passion play gets in the way Spoils your insight Tell me how the baby's made How the lady's laid
Walking on air, shoulder and head above you Down in the street, black canyons walking through Hooded sad eyes fixed on your shuffle shoes Life is a clue
Spring lights in a hazy May And a man with a gun at the door Someone's crawling on the roof above All the media here for the show I've been waiting for
Darlings are you ready for the long winter's fall? Said the lady in her parlor Said the butler in the hall Is there time for another? Cried the drunkard
Desert candle in a tented space Throwing softer shadows on a covered face Sister, silent to the likes of me Pay my respects to her propriety Is this
I've been treated for mild depression And I've been treated for growing pains I've been treated for hallucinations Now I can see it all coming again
The lights are down in Germany And Germany is closed to me Different somehow this time The airport's stiff, cold corridors Ring empty beats through hollow
She's really turned on by the television and vice versa Here's a song called, and it still can be described Yes, right, rearranged though nevertheless
May I make my fond excuses For the lateness of the hour But we accept your invitation And we bring you Beltane's flower For the May Day is the great