Studio Time

Friday afternoon in the studio
Waiting until its time to go
For the bar to open and the wine to flow
The desire to work has hit a plateau
Bronwyn’s being serenaded with Beatles karaoke
Theo’s singing sounds like a demented banshee
Christina’s cracking jokes, Marais is cracking up
There’s not a single, goddamned, clean coffee cup
Someone tore the fridge door off its hinges
Which upon our wellbeing heavily impinges
There’s no hot water, the coffee machine’s broke
To top it off I’ve run out of smokes
The toilet seat in the ladies
Has been broken once again in two
Ah, fuck it – tomorrow I’m going on leave
It’s as though I’m likely to grieve
To escape the chaos and dip my toes
On a beach somewhere that nobody knows
I’ll see you guys in a week or two
Bet you wish you were wearing my shoes

Disarray

A fortune lies in golden disarray
Lit by the fading light on another dying day
She walks alone in a breath of air
They pass on by unaware
A goddess walks amongst us still
Caught ‘tween the chaos and the still

Her treasure hidden beneath the deep
Locked in a silent dreamless sleep
A new moon rises in the sky tonight
Her lips shine softly in its gentle light
A fire burns in the depths of her eyes
A comet blazing through a midnight sky

He will never know the taste of her scent
Or lie in her arms weak and spent
That dream has passed and its shadow stains
The secret places where love remains
I watch her from the window where I stand and wait
For a white knight that will surely arrive too late

Schlock

I sat my head between my hands
Confused by the ever shifting sands
Beneath my feet and on my brief
This client destined to bring me grief
I've looked at their old CI doc
Waited for inspiration to knock
To no avail, so I
Borrowed the SAT CI
I've written some copy for you to insert
I pray there's not another revert
For I've thumbsucked this schlock out of the air
Although I'm pretty sure you don't really care
Anyway I'm going to go away
So it won't be my problem come next Tuesday