"Stuck In The August Rain"

Brings jasmine tea on a painted tray
and bends to kiss my frown away.
But I'm still still stuck in the August rain;
stuck out in the cloudburst once again.

The cover's on, the coast is clear.
We're all battened down, only us here.
But I'm still still stuck in the August rain;
stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
and she can read my signs.

Stuck out in the August rain:
Out in the cloudburst once again.

Single-minded in my gloom.
I appear to revel in this darkened room.
But I'm still still stuck in the August rain;
stuck out in the cloudburst once again.
She walks between the lines
and she can read my signs.

Stuck out in the August rain:
Out in the cloudburst once again.

"Another Harry's Bar"

Wet wind on the sidewalk: I'm staring at the rain.
Walking up the street, yeah, and walking down again.
And my feet are tired and my brain is numb.
See that broken neon sign saying, hey, in you come.

Got the scent of stale beer hanging, hanging round my head.
Old dog in the corner sleeping like he could be dead.
A book of matches and a full ashtray.
Cigarette left smoking its life away.
Another Harry's bar -- or that's the tale they tell.
But Harry's long gone now, and the customers as well.
Me and the dog and the ghost of Harry will make this world turn right.
It'll all turn right.

God's tears on the sidewalk: it's the mother of all rain.
But in the thick blue haze of Harry's, you will feel no pain.
And you will feel no soft hand slipping on your knee.
You don't have to pay for memories, they will all come free.
Another Harry's bar -- or that's the tale they tell.
But Harry's long gone now, and the customers as well.
Me and the dog and the ghost of Harry will make this world turn right.
It'll all turn right.

Now when Harry was a young man, Harry was so debonair.
He walked a bouncy step in his shiny shoes.
And when Harry was a young man, well, Harry could walk on air.
He mixed a mean cocktail and he talked you through the late news.
You want to hear some great news?
Harry's still here.

Wet wind on the sidewalk: I'm still staring at the rain.
Walking up the street, and I'm walking down again.
And my feet are tired and my brain is numb.
See that broken neon sign saying, hey, in you come.

Another Harry's bar -- or that's the tale they tell.
But Harry's long gone now, and the customers as well.
Me and the dog and the ghost of Harry will make this world turn right.
It'll all turn right.

Another Harry's bar.
And another Harry's bar.
And another, and another Harry's bar.

"Spiral"

Kilometers from nowhere on a scented avenue -
Lined with poppy girls.
I didn't stop, stop to say hello.
Curious vendors - waving bric-a-brac -
Looked me over -
Thought it best, best that I should go.

Don't wake me... I'm falling.
Slow spiral into morning.
Who's out there? Can't hear you.
Ears covered - Early warning.
Alarm bells ringing.
Time to make my peace with the dreary day.

I waited tables - I was tipped in roubles.
Wine to water
Was the best that I could do.
Wild office parties split the silence.
Loaves and fishes at an empty table laid for two.

Down the spiral, spinning madly.
Gathering momentum
On a Disneyesque adventure ride.
I fly in colours from richer palettes.
Famous artists running scared as worlds collide.

"Dot Com"

It's a wide world out there
So much wider than imagined
I can't quite put my finger on the pulse
Of your heart softly beating
Just beneath the raw silk sheen
That reflects the tints of Autumn from the hills.

So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours - yours, dot com.

Executive accommodation
Bland but nonetheless appealing
Waiters discretely at your beck and call
Place the tall sun-down potion
Lightly by your velvet elbow
While you compose a message on the wall

So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours - yours, dot com.

With your handmade leather valise
Packed and ready, ready waiting
Showered and dressed down lightly for the heat
Give a clue; leave a kind word
Hint as to a destination
A domain where our cyber-souls might meet.

So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours, I'll be yours dot com.

"AWOL"

Stormy-eyed on the edge of dawn...
nose pressed against the triple glaze.
Floor to ceiling, wall to wall,
silent traffic streams both ways.
Along the fussy freeway drivers
dream of Sunday barbecues.
Of a sudden, seems I can barely
face my self... no face to lose.
Call the bosses. Call supervisors.
Won't be in today to work for you.

E-mail that girl who's working nights.
She can dress down for this wind and rain.
Leave her new Korean compact...
let some cabbie take the strain.
Take a shower. Take big espresso.
Take to the hills, and take a view.
Little black dress stretching over
hard crystal peaks; soft valleys too.
Call the bosses. Call for nurses.
Unfit today to work for you.

No wet excuses. Absent without leave.
I'll be her dayshift driver... exotic engineer.

Stormy-eyed on the edge of night...
(December, Eastern time... late afternoon.)
Atlantic City tight behind.
Trump Casino calls pontoon.
Gristle-burger, frazzled fries
end this romantic interlude.
Tomorrow morning's sweet awakening
could hardly prove to be as rude.
Make the journey. Make amends.
Work some hasty overtime in lieu.

No wet excuses. Absent With-Out leave.
I was her dayshift driver... exotic engineer.

"Wicked Windows"

I review my past through wicked windows framed in silver
and hung in toughened glass, upon my face, around and over.
Now and then... memories of men who loved me.
No stolen kiss - could match their march on hot coals for me.

I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow.
Caught up in circumstance. Harsh truth for history to mellow.
Through my eyes... loyalties and obligation
magnified. Obedience... the better fellow.

Better not remember me. Don't miss my passing.
Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep.
We never quite vanish. No wet soft surrender.
Still waiting... bad blood running in close families.
I laughed like any child - although you might find that strange
and Christmas was my favourite holiday.

Christmas was my favourite holiday.

I am not alone in seeing the world through wicked windows
while others hide likewise behind this vulnerable squinting.
It's in the stare... it's in the silent scrutinizing.
Strip you bare... I offer you no more disguising.

Better not remember me. Don't miss my passing.
Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep.
We never quite vanish. No wet soft surrender.
Same bad blood running in new families.