I’ve got my eye on a bungalow

now I’m ageing fast and living slow

not much to do, nowhere to go

A remote-controlled garage door

An en-suite on the ground floor

These are the things I’m looking for

My rosy afterglow

I’ve got my eye on a bungalow

Where I can unwind, go with the flow

Touch the roof it’s only low

A resin drive that’s easy to clean

No moss, no weed...

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Two stones banged together 
To create a misplaced spark
Forget about the weather
Never mind the dark
Harnessing that fire
Gave Neanderthals a thrill
They could build a funeral pyre
And keep out the Ice Age chill

Down countless generations 
The flame remained intact
As in various locations 
Wood was splintered, split and stacked
By Maasai on the Kenyan Plains
In Uluru’s mystic glow
...

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Neighbour’s got a new hot tub

Cost six grand from B and Q

It came with white robes, a fridge and a sub

They’re for the chosen few

Neighbour’s got a new hot tub

It completely fills his deck

It’s superior to a back rub

And it’s sorted out his neck

It’s both rigid and inflatable

With blue lights in LED

It’s necessity’s debatable 

It’s an al fresco luxury

...

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There’s a Viking Warrior around the back

With a multi-tool and a Power Pack

Keeps nuts and bolts in a padlocked sack

He’s a DIY Man, he’s building a shack

With his manic ScrewFix lust

He’ll transform that hedge into dust

It makes no odds, he’s not fussed

He’s a DIY Man, born to rust

He wears a John Deere branded shirt

Recharges himself when he feels inert

Wa...

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Low-lit suburbia,

With its boxed excitement,

Suited her mood right now.

She lived a silent life

Of genteel disaster

And spent her afternoons

In cafés with her cups,

Deep in the corridor

Of her mind’s memories.

A kiss in a car park,

Which could have changed her life

(But which changed someone else’s),

Still haunted her at nights,

When darkness stole her dreams...

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Small town girl with your voice so low

and your hopes even lower,

you keep on singing just the wrong verse.

Why is it that you never care?

You keep on counting only on false friends.

Why is it that your heart 's so bare?

Small town girl with your history so long

and a record even longer,

huddled in your hoodie.

What is it that you won't see?

With your right arm s...

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