I was king of the art school

I was king of the art school
Its rooms like larders
I walked into them as if into light
It was the discovery of a rich seam of gold
That the spirit of life had shown me
Then it was gone.
A huge black locomotive
Crashed through the building
Then the swampy bats of normality
Dragged me away.

Oh yes, I was king of the art school
Without any clothes
I looked into a looking glass
At the tea party in the greenhouse on the rooftop
At the top of the winding square staircase
Where I went to dream and to sketch
Where I looked deep into the cracked seam
Of my little blue university sketchbook
At the light fish that swam under the rooftop
It was a night that I had ever seen before
Exploding with the imagination of primary colours

When I looked again
It was the termination of the decade
The slaughter of the innocents between the coaches
Under a rain of arrows from the medieval archers of the new masters

Hey man I was the king of the art school
It was the book of genesis made real
Amongst the Victorian architecture in Goodall Street
It blew my mind man; I was sawdust in a fire
I rose from the ocean like a dead swan and I flapped my wings and flew
It was a magical art school place, a workplace of love
Then the evil of men’s hearts came for me
I was The Lord of the Rings unfinished
Death pointed the way to the grave
And Satan laid down the kindling wood

Nothing made sense
People were fighting
The school was filled with witchcraft
And teachers ate babies

Free the art school, free the art school
I cried at Botticelli’s muses in the market
While the princess sobbed
And like Van Gogh’s bird’s she dipped her wings into the fire

Love goodness where ever you find it
Drink down its memory
So then as you walk the giant’s road
You may have life

Lesley’s Song

Please click on link to see PDF of the song.

Lesley’s Song

Lyrics to Lesley’s Song

Verses

Lesley’s always sitting down Trying to work out why
She don’t come to terms with people No matter how she tries shes always
She’s watching for the signs that hang On the city walls
Outside railway stations and on Foreign city halls

Lesley gets the blues you know she Gets them just like mine she
Tries to find the truth but The truth she’ll never find
The Passers by in Goodall Sstreet Don’t pay her any mind
And the church bells they go spining In the playground of humankind

She’ll sit there very nobly And then begin to quote
How it is that solid living seems to escape her the most
Just so we would see by the Distressed look in her eyes
She won’t give up trying It will be hers in time

She’s looking for the truth (you know) Without wearing her disguise
Not looking for an entrance That she follows in your eyes
For when the crisis came along She had nowhere to run
And her dreams are free floating And her heart seems over run

She’s sitting by the window cill Looking at the rain
And the window pulls a face And whispers someones name
She’s dressed in Victoriana Sometimes maybe sighing
She sits there maybe praying Then she says maybe she’s dieing

Chorus

And why oh why don’t we all break down in tears
After all the trouble Of the past ten thousand years
Tell her why, tell her why She wants to know this time
Now while it seems important And she’s in this frame of mind

 

%d bloggers like this: