Part I

Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper your deafness a shout.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter your love's in the sink.

So you ride yourselves over the fields and
You make all your animal deals and
Your wise men don't know how it feels
To be thick as a brick.

And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away
In the tidal destruction the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play
As the last wave uncovers the newfangled way

But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
Your suntan does rapidly peel and
Your wise men don't know how it feels
To be thick as a brick.

And the love that I feel is so far away
I'm a bad dream that I just had today
And you shake your head and say it's a shame

Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains
And shut out the whole truth
Spin me down the long ages let them sing the song.

See there! A son is born
And we p___ounce him fit to fight
There are black-heads on his shoulders
And he pees himself in the night

We'll make a man of him
Put him to trade
Tteach him to play Monopoly
Not to sing in the rain

The Poet and the painter
Casting shadows on the water
As the sun plays on the infantry
Returning from the sea

The do-er and the thinker
No allowance for the other
As the failing light illuminates
The mercenary's creed

The home fire burning
The kettle almost boiling
But the master of the house is far away
The horses standing
Their warm breath clouding
In the sharp and frosty morning of the day

And the poet lifts his pen
while the soldier sheaths his sword

And the youngest of the family
Is moving with authority
Building castles by the sea
He dares the tardy tide
To wash them all aside

The cattle quietly grazing
At the grass down by the river
Where the swelling mountain water
Moves onward to the sea
The builder of the castles
Renews the age-old purpose
And contemplates the milking girl
Whose offer is his need

The young men of the household have
All gone into service
And are not to be expected for a year

The innocent young master
Thoughts moving ever faster
Has formed the plan to change the man he sees

And the poet sheaths his pen
While the soldier lifts his sword

And the oldest of the family
Is moving with authority
A-coming from across the sea
He challenges the son who puts him to the run

What do you do when the old man's gone
Do you want to be him?
And your real self sings the song
Do you want to free him?
No one to help you get up steam
And the whirlpool turns you way off-beam

I've come down from the upper class
To mend your rotten ways
My father was a man-of-power
Whom everyone obeyed

So come on all you criminals
I've got to put you straight
Just like I did with my old man
Twenty years too late

Your bread and waters going cold
Your hair is too short and neat
I'll judge you all and make d___ sure
That no-one judges me

You curl your toes in fun
As you smile at everyone
You meet the stares you're unaware
That your doings aren't done

And you laugh most ruthlessly
As you tell us what not to be
But how are we supposed to see
Where we should run?

I see you shuffle in the courtroom
With your rings upon your fingers
And your downy little sidies
And your silver-buckle shoes

Playing at the hard case
You follow the example
Of the comic-paper idol
Who lets you bend the rules

So, come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't you rise up from the pages
Of your comic-books, your super crooks
And show us all the way

Well, make your will and testament
Won't you join your local government?
We'll have Superman for president
Let Robin save the day.

You put your bet on number one
And it comes up every time

The other kids have all backed down
And they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself
Just how big you are
And take your place in a wiser world
Of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on

So, where the hell was Biggles
When you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen
Who always pulled you though?

They're all resting down in Cornwall
Writing up their memoirs
For a paper-back edition
Of the Boy Scout Manual

See there! A man born
And we p___ounce him fit for peace
There's a load lifted from his shoulders
With the discovery of his disease
We'll take the child from him
Put it to the test
Teach it to be a wise man
How to fool the rest

"We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
God is an overwhelming responsibility
we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons
cats are on the upgrade
upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac."

Part II

In the clear white circles of morning wonder
I take my place with the lord of the hills
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured
In neat little rows sporting canvas frills

With their jock-straps pinching they slouch to attention
While queueing for sarnies at the office canteen
Saying "How's your granny? and good old Ernie?"
He coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.

The legends worded in
the ancient tribal hymn
lie cradled in the seagull's call
And all the promises they made
are ground beneath the s_____'s fall

The poet and the wise man stand
Behind the gun, behind the gun
Signal for the crack of dawn
Light the sun, light the sun

Do you believe in the day?
Do you Believe in the day!

The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun, has begun
Soft Venus lonely maiden brings
The ageless one, the ageless one

Do you believe in the day?
Do you believe in the day!

The fading hero has returned to the night, to the night
And fully pregnant with the day,
Wse men endorse the poet's sight

Do you believe in the day?
Do you believe in the day!

Let me tell you the tales of your life
Of your love and the cut of the knife
The tireless oppression the wisdom instilled
The desire to kill or be killed

Well let me sing of the losers who lie
In the street as the last bus goes by
The pavements are empty the gutters run red
While the fool toasts his god in the sky

So come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear

Let me help you pick up your dead
As the sins of the father are fed
With the blood of the fools
And the thoughts of the wise
And from the pan under your bed

Let me make you a present of song
As the wise man breaks wind and is gone while
The fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose
And the nursery rhyme winds along

So, come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear

See the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
And the hour of judgement draweth near
Would you be the fool stood in his suit of armour
Or the wiser man who rushes clear

So come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't your rise up from the pages
Of your comic-books your super-crooks
And show us all the way

Well make your will and testament
Won't you join your local government
We'll have Superman for president
Let Robin save the day

So where the hell was Biggles
When you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen
Who always pulled you through?
They're all resting down in Cornwall
Writing up their memoirs
For a paper-back edition
Of the Boy Scout Manual

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