Shine On Brightly

(brooker / reid)

My prussian-blue electric clock's
Alarm bell rings, it will not stop
And i can see no end in sight
And search in vain by candlelight
For some long road that goes nowhere
For some signpost that is not there
And even my befuddled brain
Is shining brightly, quite insane

The chandelier is in full swing
As gifts for me the three kings bring
Of myrrh and frankincense, i'm told,
And fat old buddhas carved in gold
And though it seems they smile with glee
I know in truth they envy me
And watch as my befuddled brain
Shines on brightly quite insane

Above all else confusion reigns
And though i ask no-one explains
My eunuch friend has been and gone
He said that i must soldier on
And though the ferris wheel spins round
My tongue it seems has run aground
And croaks as my befuddled brain
Shines on brightly, quite insane

I know if i'd been wiser this would never have occurred
But i wallowed in my blindness so it's plain that i deserve
For the sin of self-indulgence when the truth was writ quite clear
I must spend my life amongst the dead who spend their lives in fear
Of a death that they're not sure of, of a life they can't control
It's all so simple really if you just look to your soul

Some say that i'm a wise man, some think that i'm a fool
It doesn't matter either way: i'll be a wise man's fool
For the lesson lies in learning and by teaching i'll be taught
For there's nothing hidden anywhere, it's all there to be sought
And so if you know anything look closely at the time
At others who remain untrue and don't commit that crime

(brooker / fisher / reid)

Glimpses of nirvana

In the darkness of the night, only occasionally relieved by glimpses of nirvana as seen through other people's windows, wallowing in a morass of self-despair made only more painful by the knowle
Hat all i am is of my own making ...

When everything around me, even the kitchen ceiling, has collapsed and crumbled without warning. and i am left, standing alive and well, looking up and wondering why and wherefore.

At a time like this, which exists maybe only for me, but is nonetheless real, if i can communicate, and in the telling and the bearing of my soul anything is gained, even though the words which
Are pretentious and make you cringe with embarrassment, let me remind you of the pilgrim who asked for an audience with the dalai lama.

He was told he must first spend five years in contemplation. after the five years, he was ushered into the dalai lama's presence, who said, 'well, my son, what do you wish to know?' so the pilgr
Id, 'i wish to know the meaning of life, father.'

And the dalai lama smiled and said, 'well my son, life is like a beanstalk, isn't it?'

Held close by that which some despise
Which some call fake, and others lies
And somewhat small
For one so tall
A doubting thomas who would be?
It's written plain for all to see
For one who i am with no more
It's hard at times, it's awful raw

They say that jesus healed the sick and helped the poor
And those unsure
Believed his eyes
- a strange disguise
Still write it down, it might be read
Nothing's better left unsaid
Only sometimes, still no doubt
It's hard to see, it all works out

(brooker / fisher / reid)

For you (whose eyes were opened wide whilst mine refused to see)
I'm sore in need of saving grace. be kind and humour me
I'm lost amidst a sea of wheat
Where people speak but seldom meet
And grief and laughter, strange but true
Although they die, they seldom cry

An ode by any other name i know might read more sweet
Perhaps the sun will never shine upon my field of wheat
But still in closing, let me say
For those too sick, too sick to see
Though nothing shows, yes, someone knows
I wish that one was me

(brooker / reid)

Though i know the night has fallen and the sun's sailed out to sea
I will wait here for the band to play the trumpet voluntary
And with one foot on the seashore and the other in the sand
I will stand here plaiting daisies whilst you play the piano-grand

Caprice, your bugle blew away the cobwebs from my ears
And for once i stood quite naked. unashamed, i wept the tears
Which i tried to hide inside myself from me, i mean from you
But the shame i found too painful and the pain it only grew

Magdalene, my regal zonophone

'twas tea-time at the circus: king jimi, he was there
Through hoops he skipped, high wires he tripped, and all the while the glare
Of the aching, baking spotlight beat down upon his cloak
And though the crowd clapped furiously they could not see the joke

'twas tea-time at the circus, though some might not agree
As jugglers danced, and horses pranced and clowns clowned endlessly
But trunk to tail the elephants quite silent, never spoke
And though the crowd clapped desperately they could not see the joke