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Tuesday, March 25, 2014

The mother of invention...

Old vine moonshine new wine speak to my heart
My heart aches for the plans that we made
Made in England in the good old days
Ways that were wise once in another world

Other world charm we had it in spades
Fades into oblivion like the lights
The lights that stayed so bright for so long
Longing for a past that cannot return

Gurning like a fool outside the pub
The public face that still thinks that it’s cute
Cute as a cucumber cut into bits
Bits and pieces freeze on the candelabra

Brass monkeys wouldn’t be seen dead out there
Here we go the mother of invention…


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