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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I don’t know if there’s a God, But I still prayed we’d not be seen, That night we scaled your neighbour’s fence, To steal their trampoline, In the halflight the elastic, Shone like a lacquered animal skin, Stretched taut across the beaten frame, Held in place with rusty pins, Sat there crouching in the darkness, Like some huge primeval beast, Yeah it sat there like a drum, As our souls slapped a beat, Put me in mind of Three Blind Mice, Or God Save the Queen, Or The Rhythm of Life, Pulled me closer when the net, Became an oil slick in the rain, Said whatever souls are made of, Yours and mine are just the same, Well I’ve never like clichés, And I don’t believe in fate, I’d prefer you to quote Hardy, I find Austen quite passé, But there was something in the way, That you could spin a phrase, Yeah when you shaped them with your mouth, Those old words seemed newly made, You said, I’ll live my life according, To the fortune cookie sages, And glossy magazines, With their astrology pages, We can chart a route to China, And sail by the stars, We’ll earn ourselves a name, In brothels and in bars, Yes we will make our fortune, And we will find our fame, In a place where they write danger, And opportunity the same, Well I’ve never been to China, Couldn’t quite see the attraction, Why fly halfway round the planet, When there’s sun and sea at Brighton? And I never understood, Your peculiar gravitation, To late night establishments, Of a dubious reputation, With their smoke and smut and chewing gum, And soggy Carlton coasters, And air of desperation, And karaoke posters, Full of ugly men and women, Making ugly propositions, You say ‘perfection is a fault’, By way of explanation, And claim that there’s a quiet glory, In decay and all that’s grimy, And you’ve always been so partial, To the charms of ugly beauty, Then sang, I’ll live my life according, To the fortune cookie sages, And glossy magazines, With their astrology pages, We can chart a route to China, And sail by the stars, We’ll earn ourselves a name, In brothels and in bars, Well they’ll never see it coming, Our touch will leave them changed, Once we’ve finished with this world, It will never be the same, Oh once we’ve finished with this world, It will never be the same.
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