«Do you still see me even here?»
(The silver cord lies on the ground)
«And so I’m dead» the young man said –
Over the hill (not a wish away)
My friends (as one) all stand aligned,
Although their taxis came too late
There was
A rush along the Fulham Road
There was
A hush in the Passion play
Such a sense of glowing in the aftermath
Ripe with rich attainments all imagined
Sad misdeeds in disarray
The sore thumb screams aloud,
Echoing out of the Passion play
All the old familiar choruses come crowding in a different key:
Melodies decaying in sweet dissonance
There was a rush along the Fulham Road
Into the ever-Passion play
And who comes here to wish me well?
A sweetly-scented angel fell
She laid her head upon my disbelief
And bathed me with her ever-smile
And with a howl across the sand
I go escorted by a band of gentlemen in leather bound –
NO-ONE (but someone to be found)
All along the icy wastes there are faces smiling in the gloom
Roll up roll down, feeling unwound? – Step into the viewing room
The cameras were all around. We’ve got you taped – you’re in the play
Here’s your I.D. (ideal for identifying one and all)
Invest your life in the memory bank – Ours the interest and we thank you
The ice-cream lady wet her drawers, to see you in the Passion play:
Take the prize for instant pleasure, captain of the cricket team
Public speaking in all weathers, a knighthood from a queen
And all your best friends’ telephones never cooled from the heat of your hand
There’s
A line in the front-page story, 13 horses that also ran
Climb in your old umbrella
Does it have a nasty tear in the dome?
But the rain gets in sometimes and the sun never lets you alone
Lover of the black and white – it’s your first night
The Passion play
Goes all the way
Spoils your insight
Tell me
How the baby’s made
How the lady’s laid
Why the old dog howls in sadness
And your little sister’s immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulders
Of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision
(The examining body examined her body)
Actor of the low-high Q, let’s hear your view
Peek at the lines upon your sleeve since your memories won’t do
Tell me
How the baby’s graded
Why the lady’s faded
Why the old dog howls with madness
All of this and some of that’s the only way to skin the cat
And now you’ve lost a skin or two – you’re for us and we for you
The dressing room is just behind
We’ve got you taped – you’re in the play
How does it feel being the play?
How does it feel to play the play?
How does it feel to be the play?
Man of passion rise again, we won’t cross you out –
For we do love you like a son – of that there’s no doubt
Tell us
Is it you who is here for all good cheer?
Or
Are we here
For the glory
For the story
For the gory satisfaction
Of telling you how absolutely awful you really are?
There was a rush along the Fulham Road
There was a hush in the Passion play.