Pressure
Would be impossible
For you look even better than the face of god on a sunny day
You look good enough to eat but I've had a bellyful
And now I have this bill but I don't wanna pay
How was it for you
Do you really need that drink to disarm defences
Can you ever face the flak when you're in control
Well I don't believe my luck I am defenceless
Do with me what you want but don't tell a soul
Don't tell my soul
How was it for you
If you ain't out of your head can you ever enjoy yourself
But if you ain't in yo
For Absent Friends
Sunday at six when they close both the gates
a widowed pair,
still sitting there,
Wonder if they're late for church
and it's cold, so they fasten their coats
and cross the grass, they're always last.
Passing by the padlocked swings,
the roundabout still turning,
ahead they see a small girl
on her way home with a pram.
Inside the archway,
the priest greets them with a courteous nod.
He's close to God.
Looking back at days of four instead of two.
Years seem so few (four instead of two).
Heads bent in prayer
for friends not there.
Leaving twopence on the plate,
they hurry down the path and through the gate
and wait to board the bus
that ambles down the street.