Folk music and the hated Gertrude
A nun, a nun, anon, anon, an old foul memory
The stage is set for Birmingham
What they need to see is that the loss of loved ones and
A little organisation enables my literal middle-of-the-road
View of the architecture of the city built
On commerce...testimonies wear very thin, the
Feet get cold and the point is missed...is lost
In sentiment
This is the most powerful city on this earth, it
Has lots of salt and there is even an Arthur moment
In all of this sadness, even amongst the weaker ones
Who cannot come to terms...who could with
The loss of a big brother, or a little one
There is clear pain
There is clear anger
But I feel beauty and I feel moved
It really is about time...and all of this ahead of
A fantasy of using dotted and ribbed style with the
One from the Wirral
This almost comes true during a solo dance during
Which I am approached, hugged, then kissed
The sanest days...