Sprawling on the fringes of the city

In geometric order

An insulated border

In between the bright lights

And the far unlit unknown

Growing up it all seems so one-sided

Opinions all provided

The future pre-decided

Detached and subdivided

In the mass production zone

Nowhere is the dreamer

Or the misfit so alone

Subdivisions -

In the high school halls

In the shopping malls

Conform or be cast out

Subdivisions -

In the basement bars

In the backs of cars

Be cool or be cast out

Any escape might help to smooth

The unattractive truth

But the suburbs have no charms to soothe

The restless dreams of youth

Drawn like moths we drift into the city

The timeless old attraction

Cruising for the action

Lit up like a firefly

Just to feel the living night

Some will sell their dreams for small desires

Or lose the race to rats

Get caught in ticking traps

And start to dream of somewhere

To relax their restless flight

Somewhere out of a memory

Of lighted streets on quiet nights...

"The Analog Kid"

A hot and windy August afternoon

Has the trees in constant motion

With a flash of silver leaves

As they're rocking in the breeze

The boy lies in the grass with one blade

Stuck between his teeth

A vague sensation quickens

In his young and restless heart

And a bright and nameless vision

Has him longing to depart

You move me -

You move me -

With your buildings and your eyes

Autumn woods and winter skies

You move me -

You move me -

Open sea and city lights

Busy streets and dizzy heights

You call me -

You call me -

The fawn-eyed girl with sun-browned legs

Dances on the edge of his dream

And her voice rings in his ears

Like the music of the spheres

The boy lies in the grass, unmoving

Staring at the sky

His mother starts to call him

As a hawk goes soaring by

The boy pulls down his baseball cap

And covers up his eyes

Too many hands on my time

Too many feelings -

Too many things on my mind

When I leave I don't know

What I'm hoping to find

When I leave I don't know

What I'm leaving behind...


Signals transmitted

Message received

Reaction making impact -


Elemental telepathy

Exchange of energy

Reaction making contact -


Eye to I

Reaction burning hotter

Two to one

Reflection on the water

H to O

No flow without the other

Oh but how

Do they make contact

With one another?

Electricity? Biology?

Seems to me it's Chemistry

Emotion transmitted

Emotion received

Music in the abstract -


Elemental empathy

A change of synergy

Music making contact -


One, two, three -

Add without subtraction

Sound on sound

Multiplied reaction

H to O

No flow without the other

Oh but how

Do we make contact

With one another?

"Digital Man"

His world is under observation -

We monitor his station

Under faces and the places

Where he traces points of view

He picks up scraps of conversation -

Radio and radiation

From the dancers and romancers

With the answers - but no clue

He'd love to spend the night in Zion

He's been a long while in Babylon

He'd like a lover's wings to fly on

To a tropic isle of Avalon

His world is under anaesthetic -

Subdivided and synthetic

His reliance on the giants

In the science of the day

He picks up scraps of information -

He's adept at adaptation

'Cause for strangers and arrangers

Constant change is here to stay

He's got a force field and a flexible plan

He's got a date with fate in a black sedan

He plays fast forward for as long as he can

But he won't need a bed -

He's a digital man

"The Weapon" (Part II of 'Fear')

We've got nothing to fear - but fear itself?

Not pain or failure, not fatal tragedy?

Not the faulty units in this mad machinery?

Not the broken contacts in emotional chemistry?

With an iron fist in a velvet glove

We are sheltered under the gun

In the glory game on the power train

Thy kingdom's will be done

And the things that we fear are a weapon to be held against us...

He's not afraid of your judgement

He knows of horrors worse than your Hell

He's a little bit afraid of dying -

But he's a lot more afraid of your lying

And the things that he fears

Are a weapon to be held against him...

Can any part of life - be larger than life?

Even love must be limited by time

And those who push us down that they might climb -

Is any killer worth more than his crime?

Like a steely blade in a silken sheath

We don't see what they're made of

They shout about love, but when push comes to shove

They live for the things they're afraid of

And the knowledge that they fear

Is a weapon to be used against them...

"New World Man"

He's a rebel and a runner

He's a signal turning green

He's a restless young romantic

Wants to run the big machine

He's got a problem with his poisons

But you know he'll find a cure

He's cleaning up his systems

To keep his nature pure

Learning to match the beat of the Old World man

Learning to catch the heat of the Third World man

He's got to make his own mistakes

And learn to mend the mess he makes

He's old enough to know what's right

But young enough not to choose it

He's noble enough to win the world

But weak enough to lose it -

He's a New World man...

He's a radio receiver

Tuned to factories and farms

He's a writer and arranger

And a young boy bearing arms

He's got a problem with his power

With weapons on patrol

He's got to walk a fine line

And keep his self-control

Trying to save the day for the Old World man

Trying to pave the way for the Third World man

He's not concerned with yesterday

He knows constant change is here today

He's noble enough to know what's right

But weak enough not to choose it

He's wise enough to win the world

But fool enough to lose it -

He's a New World man...

"Losing It"

The dancer slows her frantic pace

In pain and desperation,

Her aching limbs and downcast face

Aglow with perspiration

Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire,

With just the briefest pause -

The flooding through her memory,

The echoes of old applause.

She limps across the floor

And closes her bedroom door...

The writer stares with glassy eyes -

Defies the empty page

His beard is white, his face is lined

And streaked with tears of rage.

Thirty years ago, how the words would flow

With passion and precision,

But now his mind is dark and dulled

By sickness and indecision

And he stares out the kitchen door

Where the sun will rise no more...

Some are born to move the world -

To live their fantasies

But most of us just dream about

The things we'd like to be

Sadder still to watch it die

Than never to have known it

For you - the blind who once could see -

The bell tolls for thee...

"Countdown" (Dedicated with thanks to astronauts Young & Crippen and all the people of NASA for their inspiration and cooperation)

Lit up with anticipation

We arrive at the launching site

The sky is still dark, nearing dawn

On the Florida coastline

Circling choppers slash the night

With roving searchlight beams

This magic day when super-science

Mingles with the bright stuff of dreams

Floodlit in the hazy distance

The star of this unearthly show

Venting vapours, like the breath

Of a sleeping white dragon

Crackling speakers, voices tense

Resume the final count

All systems check, T minus nine

As the sun and the drama start to mount

The air is charged - a humid, motionless mass

The crowds and the cameras,

The cars full of spectators pass

Excitement so thick - you could cut it with a knife

Technology - high, on the leading edge of life

The earth beneath us starts to tremble

With the spreading of a low black cloud

A thunderous roar shakes the air

Like the whole world exploding

Scorching blast of golden fire

As it slowly leaves the ground

Tears away with a mighty force

The air is shattered by the awesome sound

Like a pillar of cloud, the smoke lingers

High in the air

In fascination - with the eyes of the world

We stare...