Mad blokes

Dinky dogs

He's recently retired

But not voluntarily and he

Walks down the street

With his two tiny dinky dogs

Saying, off to the grind, as

I trudge up the hill, but

There is so much pain

In his voice as the trusty

Dinky dogs drag him on

Into the new world

Fantasy bubbles

Do you think that work chips away at you

Cutting loose a fraction more each day

Wilfully eroding all your carefully

Constructed foundations of freedom

And exposing them as the fantasy

Bubbles that they really are

Mad blokes

Hand your money over at mad blokes

Just squander it all and show

What a hero you are with mad blokes

Have you blown the lot, then feel right

At home at mad blokes

Whistling in the wild winds

Rustling on rusty ridges

Crunching and crinkling

Beneath our feet and

Whistling in the wild winds

In irreverent unison

Flapping for us all

Are not all leaves a prayer?

If we just see them so