"South Bay"

Twinkle toes and brass bands
Displayed in halls of white roses
Strike the drum stand up for the white rose
Don’t hide from the Valley Bridge ghouls
Re-writing fiction stops the blues
Light up in accordance with what’s crude

I’ll go walking on South Bay where the tourists stray
And the Seagulls sway in the Sun’s setting haze

Drinking aids the smoking
Habitual amazement in the traffic
Parading on a promenade of ignipotence
With confessions of fake ambition
Rewriting fiction stops the blues
Light up in accordance with what’s crude

I’ll go walking on South Bay where the tourists stray
And the seagulls sway in the Sun’s setting haze

Go walking on South Bay where the tourists stray
And the Seagulls sway in the Sun’s setting haze

David Laley December 2009

"Alone"

I’ll laugh at innocence
Hype that tackles the test of time
Try feeling lucky for a bet
Before you talk and fault the design
Nights seem superfluous but more often than not they hide the lies

You could never be the saviour for the found
You’ll never be the saviour of the found
You’ll never be the saviour of the found
On your return to this town

Passion over ability
A nagging thought that stands in your way
Waiting on a wish to keep
Caught by Catch 22 and then your delayed
This freedom you speak of is dressed to think this way

You’ll never be the saviour of the found
You’ll never be the saviour of the found
Better things are hiding in the crowd

A lazy eye for a change of mind
Wasting your days until you realise
There’s always someone kicking you from behind

You’re not an idiot
But then only idiots speak the whole truth
Don’t falter in between the scheme
You’ve hatched a plan only to become the fool
It tasted sweet at first but now you wish it wasn’t true

You’ll never be the saviour of the found
You’ll never be the saviour of the found
Better things are hiding in the crowd
On your return to this town
On your return to this town

A token gesture through the tricks and sins
Crawling with the demons closing in
Thank them for your seldom seeking service

Heads are sick of hearing the same old song
Twisting life to suit your own
But I guess this is the problem when you’re all alone

David Laley December 2009