Foundation.
How many hear the call and do the deal?
The Spell Caster.
Are you missing something magical, in your midnight embrace
As you sit all alone
Feeling lost and out of place
Look out that window
If you feel unsatisfied, unwanted, or displaced
Put down that phone and if you see Mother Moon trying, with beams of her bright moonlight
To show you a way
Beseeching you to look up high, into her glorious night sky
If you see her angel shaped clouds slowly part, and start to play
You'll hear my soft voice, whisper and say
"Want to escape from your daily routines, today?
Come open up, and find my portal, and eternal doorway
By any old trees nearby, that I've commanded to sway
To follow that compelling feeling, to pay the toll
To through and be mesmerised
Like my old muse,
Called Dorian Gray
Who to me,
Once sold his soul
When he too followed, the angel shaped clouds, at play
To open up my portal, and eternal doorway
By those old trees
Nearby
That I commanded to sway
(C) Copyright John Duffy
All the news that is the news is carried and repeated,
By little birds who fly about to make sure it is tweeted,
To any who will hear their song and sing it to another;
For some it doesn't matter, they'd sing about their mother.
It doesn't matter if the news is new or if it's old.
If it's entertaining it will be retold.
A juicy tidbit here or there is all they really need,
To get the ball a-rolling and their nasty banter feed.
Those who carry gossip, the bearers of bad news,
When trusted with a secret are just like a lit fuse.
They have to tell the secret, they have to dump their load,
For if they don't they'll overload and then they'll just explode.
Travel to the east or west,
Or to the north or south,
A gossip's just a nasty bird,
With a great big mouth.
Do you hear that quiet melody?
It is my heart.
It skips a beat every time I peer into your diamond eyes.
Pitter patter calculations
Illustrious is your smile to me
The music of your laughter, I enjoy
My melodious LOVE CASTER
Yes you put a spell on me
Every bit of your exhalation is my
Inhalation my very best inspiration
I'm spell bound
Easy does it slow and steady
Tenderness tenderly you please exceptionally.
All the news that is the news,
Is carried and repeated,
By little birds who fly about,
To make sure it is tweeted,
To any who will hear their song,
And sing it to another.
For some it doesn't matter who,
They'd sing about their mother.
It doesn't matter if the news,
Is new or if it's old,
If it's entertaining,
It will be retold.
A juicy tid bit her or there,
Is all they really need,
To start the ball a-rolling,
And their nasty banter feed.
Those who carry gossip,
The bearers of bad news,
When trusted with a secret,
Are just like a lit fuse.
They have to tell the secret.
They have to dump their load,
For if they don't they'll overload,
And then they'll just explode.
Travel to the east or west,
Or to the north or south,
A gossip's just a nasty bird,
With a great big mouth.
Can you imagine that??
What kind of rat...??
Would steal my tonic....
Maybe they're bionic....
Cause no sane one I know,
Would want to take,
As disgusting a thing,
Unless they felt they were a king,
And needed to so torture,
Some rebellious subject,
And this was their best scorcher...
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