Tap, tap. Tap-tap-tap.
It's rhythm and form you need to raise the soul
percussive sounds punctuate soft silk sonic backgrounds
turning to gongs, going to taps.
I refuse to be depressed, I chase moments to enjoy.
They are broadly, football, friends, music and beer
Or theatres, or performance, yes human excellence
movement of exaggerated glory, glorious to behold
The smell of old men is replaced by chips at Wigan North Western
It consume, I smell nothing else but there are other senses
I hear the Dublin voice reciting James Joyce, I see
the spring light catch the window frames
I express these observations and I feel joy.
Draft version 1.0, 14/3/2011. Please do not copy or cite without author's permission.
It's rhythm and form you need to raise the soul
percussive sounds punctuate soft silk sonic backgrounds
turning to gongs, going to taps.
I refuse to be depressed, I chase moments to enjoy.
They are broadly, football, friends, music and beer
Or theatres, or performance, yes human excellence
movement of exaggerated glory, glorious to behold
The smell of old men is replaced by chips at Wigan North Western
It consume, I smell nothing else but there are other senses
I hear the Dublin voice reciting James Joyce, I see
the spring light catch the window frames
I express these observations and I feel joy.
Draft version 1.0, 14/3/2011. Please do not copy or cite without author's permission.
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