Jefferson Hairplane

 

One comb gives you highlights, 

one comb volume too, 

and the pudding bowl haircut, isn't really good for you.  

Go ask Alice for a band, when her hair is tall, 

but if you go seeking dreadlocks then they're not your look at all.

Tell them the Bride of Frankenstein has given you a coiffe, 

and Alice with her hair down will help you get a life.

The bald men in the waiting room will recommend a wig, 

that's made from stuff like horse hair, and is very very big.

And you've had a perm for days and days and your hair is hard as rock,

and the ends are not so much as split as atomised in shock.

When hair mousse, and hair lacquer have tried their best and failed,

and the mohawk is the last you'll have, your duck's arse is de-tailed.

Remember Picard is the bomb, what Sinead O'Conner said.

Shave your head, Shave your head.

You sent

9 minutes ago

Maltloaf : The Duckling Song

Suggested by Bryan Burford saying: I'm not sure what you think ducklings do, but it's not that.
and Rob Buckley saying: The lesser known Meatloaf song. During a discussion about television in which the word imprinting was used.

THE DUCKLING SONG

They may float in ponds, dress an Easter hat, 

I don't know what you think they do, but they don't do that.  

'Cos ducklings a la orange, isn't as tasty as it appears, 

You can get the taste on your tongue at night

Though you've been vegan now for years, 

And all you can see by the dashboard light 

Is little balls of yellow tears, 

Because ducking run over in the orange of night isn't tasty as it appears.

Oh it was long ago that I had my fill, 

And it seems like just my luck,

That no no matter how tender and plump it may be

I can't now face a duck, 

Because when I think of a duckling now, 

I know the bill is due, 

Cause if you'd done to them what I'm thinking of now

You couldn't face one too

They may look good on cards, they may quack a lot

They may be fuffy as a whole ball of yarn

But when a car rolls over their plot

They can't come back from grievous bodily harm.

I was younger then, I didn't have no fear

I'd seen too much street-pizza goin' to waste.

But the orange light of the headlights here

They just bring back the texture and taste. 

Oh it was long ago that I had my fill, 

And it seems like just my luck,

That no no matter how tender and plump it may be

I can't now face a duck, 

Because when I think of a duckling now, 

I know the bill is due, 

Cause if you'd done to them what I'm thinking of now

You couldn't face one too

Little Song CSi5M

And now its time to sing a song

A little song that isn’t long

And when we’ve sung

We’ve sung the sung

We’ve sung the song that isn’t long

And passed the time that wasn’t sad

The memory of it’s not even bad

Because the time that’s sad

Was not so long

Was hardly long

Was pretty short

It’s come to naught

And so’s this song.

Lemon Cohen CSi5M "The third world war"

They told me that the third world war
Would be fought between the rich and poor
And asked me to declare where I would stand.

I like the things that wealth can bring
But not enough to watch them string
Up rotting bodies half across the land.

If we spent for a dozen years,
Just half the cash we spend on fears
To give us a false feeling of command,

We might just see that the needs of all
Need not be mysteries nor appal,
But a request to lend an open hand.

To call the poor a swarm or horde,
Is to take Satan at his word,
And give in to the darkness he has planned.

I'd rather share what I have made,
Than huddle - well armed - but afraid,
Behind the castle walls of shifting sand.

So let the poor, the huddled, hope,
They have no mercy but the boat,
That might bring them to some more fertile strand.

They do not wish to storm the gates,
We're just projecting our old hates,
Because we lack the strength to understand.

We're all upon the same old Earth,
We've yet to find another berth,
And yet we fight about the small or grand.

No cause, that has not seen some blood,
Or martyrs burning in the wood,
It's past the time the armies, should disband.

Oh humankind, you hit yourself,
Your right hand steals your left hands wealth,
Oh hear me well and don't misunderstand.

With God or gods or on your own,
You have to stop the whining moan,
Do good to others, and...there is no 'and'.

Lemon Cohen's "Shed-Keys" CSI5M

I lost the keys
I'd locked the shed
You looked on me
As one now dead.
And my skin
And my skin
Well it shed,

A crucial patch
From off my back
That hid the marks
Of your attack.

I took my tools
Unscrewed the lock
The keys were not
Inside the clock.
And my hand
And my hand
Hid my eye.

I tried my other
Trousers and
The places where
Rogue keys might land.

I looked under
The things that might
Have been put down
In fear that night.
And my mind
And my mind
Wanders on.

They are not on the
Other peg,
They are not down
The Trouser leg.

They are not in
The butter dish
Why can't I just get
One small wish?
And the time
And the time
It falls on.

We wind up clock
Work toys to try
To figure out
How best to die.

I would not need
To find a key
If I were certain
I could flee.
And my mind
And my mind
Wanders on.

CSi5m - Lemon Cohen - The Water Bearers

They suffer much to end the thirst
Of any who must labour.

They bring the wetness of the feast
That gives to life it's savour.

They walk with jars upon their heads
To where the draft is needed.

They risk the hands of men with guns
Their progress is impeded.

And the water, washes sins away, for they themselves are virtue.
And the water, washes time away, what you don't recall won't hurt you.

The path is long and full of stones,
The skin of feet is worn.

But it grows again much harder,
For the sake of being torn.

They suffer much for men and boys,
And for those of their own gender.

And the water washes pains away,
So long as love is tender.

Be like the ones who bear the weight, reject the ones who trip them,
Some people are a source of light, the others you can skip them.

And the light that's born, is scattered, through the water as it pours.
And the right that's done, it matters, for the thirsty and the whores.

And the water, washes sins away, for they themselves are virtue.
And the water, washes time away, what you don't recall won't hurt you.

CSi5M : Lemon Cohen - Rumpelstiltskin

Spinning out the flaxen hair, within the empty stable.
I wonder where Rasputin went before the Czar was able,
To steal back all his wife's affection from her fabled tutor,
He wouldn't leave her to him, 'lest the revolution shoot her.

Weaving my alchemy, in the dusty waft of horseshit,
I wonder where the cost will fall, what treasury resource it?
When straw to gold is turning, will the economy recover?
Or will I bring the kingdom down, around my royal lover?

For straw is warm, and food as well, but gold is hard and heavy,
And horses can not eat up gold, and gallop through the levee,
The ruling class is foolish, but the underclass must fool them,
And if gold will buy my safety, then it's gold thread I will spool them!

And the midget in the shadows, with his eyes made out of mica,
Who's name ain't quite Rasputin, though it might be pretty like-a,
Will take payment in the blood and bone that is not yet a-borning,
But the spindle still is spinning and that fate will wait for morning.

Oh rich demand not from the poor, impossible conditions,
We can not even walk without your cossetting physicians,
For we've ricketts from vitamin loss, and scurvey, and pelagra,
And we're impotent without your glossy blue police viagra.

So we lie and spin, our golden webs, to bring rich flies to dinner,
And we spread our legs for half the price you'd lavish on a sinner,
If we could spin a golden sword, we'd hold it at your breast-bones,
And the rich would feel the point of all our inconvenient questions.

Take my golden thread and tie me to the bed-post for your supper,
Our relationship, the gap between mortage and fixer-upper,
I'll try to forget the promises you made to other ghosts,
In the mist of the lost moorland, 'neath the shadow of the hosts.

And the midget in the shadows, with his eyes made out of mica,
Who's name ain't quite Rasputin, though it might be pretty like-a,
Will take payment in the blood and bone that is not yet a-borning,
But the spindle still is spinning and that fate will wait for morning.

Maltloaf 'stamp on my heart' CSi5m

If you're going to scale the peaks
If you're going to lead the freaks
If you're going to gain the crown and scorn the pain
Whatever else you do, there's
One thing before you start
St st st st st st st st stamp on your heart.

There's no room left here for sympathy
We haven't got no time to coddle empathy
If you're not a psychopath you must still walk the same path
And whatever else you must leave off your list
Don't let those emotions get in your shopping cart
St st st st st st st st stamp on your heart.

You want to know how I found this truth?
It wasn't in a school book that I had in my youth!
It's just life experience, that's shown the heart's inferrience
If you don't crush it first, someone else will crush it worst,
By spell, or domination, or by some black art,
She'll st st st st st st st st stamp on your heart.

If  you don't heed this advice, then I cannot help,
The time will come when you are bleeding, out with a yelp,
Unable to forget, unable to win your bet,
Whatever is your final fate
Nobody gives a fart
It's st st st st st st st st stamped on your heart
St st st st st st st st stamped on your heart.

Mourning Song - A Lemon Cohen CSi5M

When the weather washes down the walls
And the sad graffiti mark
And all the hearses of the poor
Are drawn up in the dark
The bodies of the mourners are touched by the thought
Of the graceful way that you lay
And the posters whose pasting came to naught
Display all the topics of day.

For don't vacate your coffin, or leave your heady tomb,
For nothing can greet you in the dawn
Like the slow tears of the Moon.

When the rain it splashes down the halls
Where courtly giraffes strode
And all the half chewed acacia leaves
Are stored in jars of spode
The zookeepers of poverty, sweep up the final straw
And bury the lost bones carefully
Where we found
The lion cub's claw.

So don't come from your jungle lair, to city canyon's grey
For the tangle of the vines is lost
In the tramlines of the day.

ONCE BITTEN - A MALTLOAF SONG - CSi5M

If you must date on a full moon
In the dark of the woods
Without even a choker of silver
You risk a dark fate,
Even so, ain't it great,
To feel the howl begin to kill yeh!
Once Bitten!
         Once you felt the fear!
Once Bitten!
          The sounds getting, near!
Once Bitten!
          Now it's you that's Were!
And the people you feared are
Twice Bitten!

If you must carouse in a castle
Across a bottomless ravine
Without even a necklace of garlic
You risk being never more seen,
Even so it's a blast,
To turn into a ghast,
Once Bitten!
        Once you felt the fangs!
Once Bitten!
        Now the hunger pangs!
Once Bitten!
        Scare torch wielding gangs!
With your vampire glare
Twice Bitten!

If you have to assume
That a Mummy's tomb
Is the best place to go va-va-voom!
You risk getting wrapped up,
Even though it's a curse
Well I guess you could do worse,
Once throttled!
       You can't sing a note
Once throttled!
       It's got you by the throat
Once throttled!
      Then it's your turn to gloat!
With your lurching step!
They're throttled!

Mountainside Avalanche a 'Robyn Hitchcock' CSi5M

Oh, let the mountainside roll down
And crush me as you did,
I've yodelled too much of the clown
That serves me for an id,

My inner light is on the skids,
My strategy is dark
I climbed the north face with the kids
Who did it for a lark.

An avalanche of shaking ground
Stones beat me down at last
Some were sharp and some were round,
But all of them were fast.

You were called a mountaineer,
I had vertigo,
You rang like a chandelier
While I had far to go.

And this song makes little sense
Which isn't to be mocked,
If my head's a little dense,
It has been pretty rocked.

Diamonds the size of cars,
Sapphires blue as grey,
Tumbling like shooting stars
Around me as I lay.

Angel shaped upon the snow line
Underneath the fall,
Where the trees could only pine,
And never oak at all.

Flattened by adversity
Flat-lined unto death,
I had not a care you see,
'Til I was out of breath.

Then I scorned your good advice
What else could I do,
You were strong as winter ice,
And I was only blue, boys, I was frozen through.

Her Name Was Merlina CSi5m

Been a while, here's a 'Pulp' song..


I knew a girl and her name was Merlina,
If you saw her in the street you'd know that you'd seen her,
She had braided hair,
And a thousand mile stare.

She wore a torc and rings that were runic,
Silver chains and a dark velvet tunic,
She was kind,
And that's hard to find.

I asked her out, but she loved another,
I nursed a beer and I phoned my mother,
I said, "I'm at a loss",
And my mum got cross.

"If you took some pains with your appearance,
Didn't give up and showed perseverance,
Maybe you'd do well,
You can never tell."

I said, "Ta mum," and stashed my mobile,
Felt as if my smile had been at Chernobyl,
It was melting down,
To a glowing frown.

I knew a girl who was weird and mystic,
Made me want to do something altruistic,
But I never did
I just dressed up and hid.

Merlina married, the one she loved, see?
Never saw the neat, suited, hat and gloved me,
The one who tries,
And sometimes cries.

Dark Revenge

Best served cold, on ebony dishes

You'll regret how you spurned my offerin'

I'll teach you all to thwart my wishes

When worms are crawling in your coffin

You'll regret how you spurned my offerin'

All I have to do is wait, you non-immortals quickly pass

When worms are crawling in your coffin

You're getting older that's your fate, Death's waiting with his hour-glass

All I have to do is wait, you non-immortals quickly pass

Dark Revenge, it's midnight feasting

You're getting older that's your fate, Death's waiting with his hour-glass

Dark Revenge, unleash the beast thing!

Dark Revenge, it's midnight feasting

Dark Revenge, it's planned and plotted

Dark Revenge, unleash the beast thing!

Dark Revenge, the order's blotted

Dark Revenge, it's planned and plotted

Best served hot, in a flaming platter

Dark Revenge, the order's blotted

I'll teach you all to fawn and flatter

Best served hot, in a flaming platter

You'll regret how you tried to screw me

I'll teach you all to fawn and flatter

When you find your tomb is not that roomy

You'll regret how you tried to screw me

All I have to do is sate, my blood-thirst on your pulsing veins

When you find your tomb is not that roomy

You'll be having growing pains

All I have to do is sate, my blood-thirst on your pulsing veins

As you wax and swell and fester

You'll be having growing pains

Dark Revenge, you'll be my jester

As you wax and swell and fester

I'll teach you all to thwart my wishes

Dark Revenge, you'll be my jester

Best served cold, on ebony dishes

[Another Hangman song, from the Album "And Those Who Hate Them"]

Beyond the Grave

Beyond the grave are there the undiscovered countries of the light?
Are there somewhere citadels of rubies and of jet?
Or is it just a place of endless, never changing night?
Where shrinking skin shows nails and teeth, as growing shards of white,
And there's no hope of resurrection, yet?

Beyond the grave are there the undiscovered countries of the light?
Does the barge of a thousand Suns, sail down the Nile's might?
Are there pryamids faced with old gold, where the sun goes to set?
Or is it just a place of endless, never changing night?
Where nothing lies beyond the bounds of coffin walls, so tight,
And there's no hope our wider dreams are met?

Beyond the grave are there the undiscovered countries of the light?
Beyond the grave is there another chance at right?
Or is this life the only bite we get?
Or is it just a place of endless, never changing night?
That even lacks the skeletons, beyond our own self-sight,
To scare us with the, shudders that we get?

Beyond the grave are there the undiscovered countries of the light?
Or is it just a place of endless, never changing night?


 [Another Hangman song from the Album "And Those That Hate Them"]

Shadows - a Lemon Cohen Song

I feel that something now in me is fading and is slowing

A sense perhaps, that I was ever strong

Though hereabout tall lime trees still, are shadowed and are growing

My shadow, as a shadow, isn't now so deep or long.

A sense perhaps, that I was ever strong

Has vanished, and I fail to make impressions, that will linger

My shadow, as a shadow, isn't now so deep or long.

The book I read defeats me, I'm afraid the moving finger

Has vanished, and I fail to make impressions, that will linger

To show me what my eyes are resting on.

The book I read defeats me, I'm afraid the moving finger

That once would follow holy light through tricks and paradoxes vast

And win me through to truth at last

Now fails as my eyes blur with tears of sorrow

That once would follow holy light through tricks and paradoxes vast

Unsightful now just flinch against the twilight of the morrow

Now: fails as my eyes blur with tears of sorrow.

And the older that my eyes get, the less they greet the morning

Unsightful now just flinch against the twilight of the morrow

As I shiver in the coolness, and hollows that are yawning

And the older that my eyes get, the less they greet the morning

For the grey of life grows over all my strength

As I shiver in the coolness, and hollows that are yawning

And the other shadows lengthen and are darker in their length

For the grey of life grows over all my strength

Like moss or creeping lichen on the stonework of the altar

And the other shadows lengthen and are darker in their length

As the last nights now are falling, when the powers of light must falter

Like moss or creeping lichen on the stonework of the altar

That once would exalt living light, in starlights on the dome of night

As the last nights now are falling, when the powers of light must falter

Unless the Sun will rise again, in warmth and love and light

That once would exalt living light, in starlights on the dome of night

Though hereabout tall lime trees still, are shadowed and are growing

Unless the Sun will rise again, in warmth and love and light

I feel that something now in me is fading and is slowing

 

Void Secrets, A Lemon Cohen song.

The whisper bears the message of the secret of the void
There is no god who watches you, impatient or annoyed,
But you may wish there was because the reason doesn't flatter,
You're just a speck, a fleck of dirt, upon the face of matter.

So mad poet, take up your pen, write what the voice dictates,
There are no special benizons, no privileging fates,
All that lives, rat, ape or king, goes down into the dust,
And no one cares about the pain, the murders nor the lust.

No more than the fat drunkard, in the toilet of a bar,
Feels any strong concern about two ants beneath his car,
The black ant has the red ant pinned in formic acid pain,
The turning wheel kills both when he drives off into the rain.

Images of the future, which the poet barely grasps,
Convey the emptiness immense, the nightmare of the gaps,
His broken mind attempts to fill the desolating chasm,
With names that make no sense within a churn of protoplasm.

Cthulhu, Yog-sothoth, and all, are broken, turning shards,
Attempts to fill the emptiness behind the falling cards,
Al Hazrad knows the whisper which destroyed his poet's mind,
When you remove the pallid mask, there is no fiend behind.

Nothing plans to seize your soul, nothing craves your fear,
Nothing wants your worship, nothing isn't even there.
In Azathoth the only truth, is no truth can endure,
Around its core of mindless flesh, the daemon pipes encore.

Journey : CSi5m

On a bus through Camden
listening to The Divine Comedy.
It could be any year, since '97.
The world got worse.
I stayed the same.
Ah well.

Huddled at bus stop
my ipod shuffling nervously through Morrisey.
It could be any year, post Apple.
Surfaces changed.
Inside's the same.
Ah well.

Leaving work to get the bus
One ear-phone slices duos back to singletons.
It could be any year, since things broke up.
Half of everything got worse
The rest remained impossible.
Ah well.

At work before I left, before I got the bus,
Before the music offered commentry.
It could be any year, after I heard your voice for the last time.
For we got worse, imperceptably,
It stayed the same.
Ah well.

Midday, I got your message,
Or to be strictly accurate, the hospitals.
It could be any year before, they could cure what ails us.
The prognosis was worse.
The treatment stayed the same.
Whyfore could I not pronounce 'ah "well" '.


[First verse supplied by Jim Smith, in a different
context. Song retro-engineered by SBJ]

New Wine for New Years - a Lemon Cohen CSi5M

Greet the new year with Jesus
Said the sign upon the door
But I didn't have enough drink for Him
So I went to buy some more.

The off-license could not advise me
Whether it was Red or White, He'd desire
So I got one of each and a Rose
Just in case he brought the choir.

For some wine goes best with Wedding Cake
And some best with Funeral lillies
So I swapped the Wine of Canaan
For the Wine of Sainsburys.

No-one who's drunk the old wine
Straight away desires the new
Though it comes in new bottles,
It's for when the old wine's through.

So raise a toast to the old year,
In the old wines that it decants
And greet the new one with Jesus
and hope, you've the wine He wants.

I wish, I believed that Jesus
Would share a glass of Wine
So the workers in the vineyard
Wouldn't think they'd wasted time.

The old year is a greybeard
While Jesus's beard is brown
And Judas was a redhead
And passed the wine around.

So Greet the year with Jesus
Who's blood is in the wine
But get the new wine in advance
So you won't wait in line.

Broadsword and the Beast (from Twenty Thousand Fathoms)

Bring me a lighthouse and mournful weather
Bring me an iceberg melting in the sun
The sun of the atom, freeing a monster
An ancient monster, lost and alone.

Bring me my broadsword (that's the brig's call-sign)
Bring me my fog-horn that cries like a gull.
So lost and so lonely, so prelapsarian
That lost monsters must hear it and heed its pull.

Lure the beast to the lighthouse
It's my cliff-top dwelling, when the soldiers of Unit
Prepare it's cage. (With comfy pillows)
So that beneath the billows, it will feel at home.

For the monster just needs friends,
Like Sergeant Benton, or Corporal Osgood, or even the Brig.
They have the experience, and the understanding
To look after the creatures be they small or big.

Bring me a lighthouse and mournful weather
Bring me an iceberg melting in the sun
The sun of the atom, freeing a monster
An ancient monster, that at last comes home.

Self-pity Song - CSi5M

If you have any time to spare
And any kind words to say
Please say them today
for I am so
very very low.

If you have any love to give
Then send it my way
And send it today
for I am now mostly
pallid, wan, and ghostly.

If you can fix your attention here
Or lend me an ear
I’d better make clear
Don’t wait for next year
For time’s going I fear.

I’m only hangin’ on by a thread
From a worn old spool, from a worn old shed.
And when that thread its fibres shred
If it happens today
Then I’m falling away.

Perhaps further down in the dark is a ledge
But with my luck I’ll just miss the edge
So if you’ve got some time to pledge
Well I’d take some today
(Yi-pe-oh-ki-aye)