My Ageless Wonderfriend

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In all the vastness of this world
And the terrifying expanse of time
Will there be one, how could there be
To live and marvel and let it be?
Yet sincere belief has made it so
Eternity has you in an envelope:
Out of all time, charmed in wizardry
Prove my existence in this world

Raise me
Raise me to the saviour of your grace
Say where I could be your plaything
And hold me in the pureness of intent

I send my life in a loveletter to you
I want you to come and visit me when we’re dead
I’d hold a party now if I could
For all the ones I ever loved
But ah you, my starchild, could never come
For what’s between, that’s the world
And that’s a tinker’s cuss
That caused my wonderloss

Big Bang — Black Hole
“Oh my God, it’s full of stars . . .

Raise me
Raise me to the saviour of your grace
Say where I could be your plaything
And hold me in the pureness of intent

“Anywhere!”
You would smile and laugh
As I, beneath “wisdom”
Account myself to joy

A kiss on her forehead ~
I can smell my way in

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© 2021 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

The Children Are Watching

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Letter to an MP:
“You are a cruel person, whose views should be disregarded.
You wish harm to humanity.”

It is your duty to go shopping, or so I was told
It is your duty to the future . . .
And so I did as I was told.
Though I hadn’t any money
I had to find a way of scamming some:
Permission to live in a world
That did not want what I had to say

The children are watching, not far off in the future
Coming through the roof, Oskar hangs out with Bebra
Crawling beneath tables
Grubbing for insufficient food
And far from gutters and rotted sewage
Washed up on the beach: sludge of something shameful

The children are watching, not far off in the future

Their last mile of progress marred with hatred
It’s been long-drawn-out
And there should have been those who cared:
Slow meltdown in gasps of stupidity
No poetic soul could stop the mouths of bleeding greed . . .
I know, I had illusions

Suffer little children:
They do not excuse your shortcomings
You can’t believe what they saw, given short straws . . .
The children, the children, not far off in the future
Are watching . . .

Not so long ago, before the people’s spirit died
When the young ones had something to live up to
A mass experiment in human despair
Was brought about by gluttony and neglect
And downright deception and theft
Watching from chairs on the internet

The children are watching, dying on thin branches
Not far off in our own future
Where the betrayal really happened:
You killed your own offspring
Who barely outlived you.
You took the cream off their chance
And left despair in the dregs

*

When will we come alive again?
From a heavenly produce
What are we leaving them?
No chance of becoming real

The children are watching
Not far off in their woods
Somewhere the people are all good, just like in films ~
They never lack food, and always tell the truth
They’re peering through the roof . . .
I’ve never been upstairs, I’ve heard it’s beautiful
Where the children are watching from their skyway bedroom

What is this that is coming that is too dreadful to mention?
Tribal inquisition, regress in nightmares, following indecision

*

The children are watching
Clutching last straws
Their existence is a Medieval dream . . .
To fall down a quest, to the Bronze Age
And through the left-open door
World War Four is forever more

The children are watching, falling through the floor

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© 2021 Pete Gioconda & Black Cat Communications

The Great Big Sell-off

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Losing weight so we can go shopping again . . .

NARRATOR
Come on a spree with me, in the shopping sanctuary
We’ll buy what no one needs
Every pound we’ve not got, we’ll spend on luxuries
And shitty deals to shut us up

CHORUS
In the Great Big Sell-off

In the stink of afternoon, a baboon in his steel box
Offers to break my fingers off, as I curse him as I cross ~
He works for the masters of money,
There’s a sale on and he’s in a hurry ~
With half the species gone already
It’s an “extra special” feeding frenzy

So have yourself a drink, grab another plate
The beast that feeds on mincemeat says,
“What you need is some vacuous temptress
To tempt you like the adverts . . .”
The diners look on in stylised bleakness
Scraping their food off of axe heads

NARRATOR
Regardless of what’s going on
The grey-faced tramp comes lolloping along,
Drooping inside hell’s extravaganza,
Beard stuck out like a mildewed sponge
He howls and sneers through pristine windows
Blaring his soul like a megaphone:

TRAMP
Welcome to the Pleasuredome!

NARRATOR
But unable to persuade, to get what he wants (whatever that was),
He stumbles off, leaving the diners outside the restaurant
To stare in disgust as he drags his carcass, gnarled and gurning,
Singing “Get off the street, ’cos I’ve got a job

CHORUS
“. . . at the Great Big Sell-off!”

TRAMP
I wanna be high, when it’s my turn to die
They’ll sell it all, by and by ~
When they finish up the forests
Where’ll be left to hide?

NARRATOR
They gobble up each new purchase
As the world melts before their eyes . . .

*

NARRATOR
The sellers sell on at the great big sell-off ~
Soon we shall be stuffed with stuff/
A casino wheel speeding up/
Or starving in the midst of surplus/
Templates from the shopping circus . . .
Who creates this madness lit up by adverts?

CHORUS
The Great Big Sell-off

NARRATOR
In Sponsor’s Row, where anything goes
Classic art has turned to logos ~
With tattooed graphics to join the matrix
People mimic the gimmick of themselves ~
And with everything else flying off the shelves
The Earth too is going cheap in the sales . . .

NARRATOR
The great big sell-off continues apace
All hail to the human race
Grabbing at trinkets wherever they can ~
In the colossal trade-off, delusion and gain,
Always on a knife edge, to evenly split us up
We beg for products of no relief . . .

Along endlessly updated precincts
We dream of what’s gone, in simulation
(Buy yourself back on subscription)

CHORUS
Here in the Great Big Sell-off . . .

And you in your portly daze
Talk about a living wage
As if doling out for children;
Or rent us your tunnel vision

*

TRAMP + CHORUS
They drive our rents through the roof
Then call us spongers to boot . . .
Please sell me a new excuse
To be a coward!

TRAMP
I see beyond the dust of their gleaming towers

FARMER’S VOICE
GET OFF LAND!
We don’t want your rags or smell around ~
These idle trappings that drag you down
Will sell well down the river . . .

OTHER FARMER’S VOICE
Sellers may turn in their accounts later
When the Earth’s core is in liquidation
And human teeth and hair
Are up for consideration . . .

CHORUS
When they divide up the boats,
Losers shall be trussed up like goats
Or help lords reinforce their moats

NARRATOR
Ghettos in the North East
To be bulldozed over cliffs
After they’ve asset-stripped . . .

CHORUS + TRAMP
And when the last buyers have brought it all in,
When the gluttons have swallowed it up ~
Dead ducks float past gold-plated yachts.
Did they ever get what they want?

NARRATOR
When the meat puppets have their funnels
Stuck in the sludge-bucket of money,
When you think it’s all funny ~
What else can you sell me?

CHORUS
The Great End-of-it-all, end-it-all Jolly

FARMER’S VOICE [posh]
Mind gobbling folly! . . . The, err . . . [losing interest]

CROWD
. . . The Great Big / can’t wait! . . .
Their great . . . Big Great . . .
Hypnotic . . . de-humanised . . .
Ss-ss . . . Sod-all . . .
Sell Off . . .

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© 2021 Pete Gioconda & Black Cat Communications

The Drones Are Coming

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Coming soon to a street near you . . .

Here they come, sweeping the air
The drones have got round to our area
While you were sleeping or watching porn
The last to be informed
Singing, “Give it to me, give it to me / It’s mine, I want it!”
Well, you know what?

The drones have come to our part of town
Squeezing up fences, breaking us down
Weaving webs around our family
Watchful eyes far away

We are to be replaced or packed up for slavery
Being free makes you an enemy of society
Rebuilding tribes around masters of money
In the tug-of-war over land and what’s left on it
Drones are worth more than human bodies

Back in the control room, your life is bagatelle
The tin can viewpoints of your existence
Don’t match your bank balance . . .
Videos in the distance
Trail the bottom line of our resistance

The drones have got round to our area
They reach out for us everywhere
Cold eyes sweeping through,
Tendrils carving paradise

Mr Nice Guy: look where he works!
The buzz he gets from the damage he does
. . . Head plugged in, eyes that cannot see
Who’d’a thought such a fella could be
So dirty behind the street

There are dozens in the warehouse, of boys and girls
Playing with high-tech toys for fun ~
Their teenage years were not wasted!
Friends in the neighbourhood who waited too long,
Trusting in the goodness of power:
The game of glossy game-up is heading our way . . .

Don’t hang around this part of town
The drones have come to cut us down
Weaving webs around our family:
I’ll run away and so should you . . .

Metal is more valuable to the gangs that are forming
You are highly expendable to the drones that are coming:
They’ll wipe away everything, even your tears

[breathless]
The drones are coming
I see them beyond the trees

[FX: panic with silence]

“Run for the stronghold; but it’s too late ~
The drones are coming, to furnish us with . . .”

*

[FX: with silence, building up]

The drones have come to our part of town
The drones have come to cut us down
Roads strewn with burning cars
Red pools of pedestrians

Back in the control room
Mr Nice Guy spills his coffee, he gets so excited:
“It’s music for reptiles, when I’m here!”

[spoken like a Cockney WW2 policeman:]
“. . . And lucky he didn’t burn his leg this time;
He got your family by the looks of it
And he’ll get you too if you’re not quick”

Ha wipe you out ~ what a lark
The drones are coming, hurrah hurrah
And then . . .

[sounding weak, slowing to halt]
“We drop down and they roll over . . .
It was too much for us to pull together
The way peoples used to
When their homes were threatened . . .”

*

The drones are coming ::
And something worse . . .

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© 2021 Pete Gioconda & Black Cat Communications

Laughter for Lovers

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Standing naked in the spectral heat
Lapping up your baby sideshow
Remember I was the one who said
“Laughter is for lovers”
And you who gave me
All you did not know how to give

One, two, fancy you!
My bubble blew out and burst on you
What got me was
It was too very wonderful
I’d live it all through and through
I’d live it all through and through
Live it all through and through

In the void that’s left without you
I’ve seen the strangest things
Who wants to see the sea
Leaking through the sky?
Or a dinosaur’s blue rinse
Yeah, head down the loo?

One, two, fancy you!
My bubble blew out and burst on you
What got me was
It was too very wonderful
I’d live it all through and through
I’d live it all through and through
Live it all through and through

Your new boyfriend you’ve known for a while
And when I met you some way down the road
You told me he beat up your Careers Officer
Because you asked him to
And now you’ve got your baby
What a joke it was to be free!

Now I doubt if you’d believe me
I don’t take life too seriously
Finding it all so very funny
Oh, all the blessèd time
But even if laughter is for lovers
I don’t think I’ll split my sides

One, two, fancy you!
My bubble blew out and burst on you
What got me was
It was too very wonderful
I’d live it all through and through
I’d live it all through and through
Live it all through and through

 

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© 2020 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Spiderwoman!

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Spiderwoman!
Spiderwoman!

She weaves me in her web
Spins me in silvery thread
She lets me loose a second
Then pulls me in again

Spiderwoman!
Spiderwoman!

I’m a fly in a dusty old web
Dried out and almost dead
She leaves me like an empty shell
She hauls new flies in again

Spiderwoman!
Spiderwoman!

She weaves me in her web
Spins me in silvery thread
She lets me loose a second
Then pulls me in again

Spiderwoman!
Spiderwoman!

Spiderwoman!
Spiderwoman!

Spiderwoman!
Spiderwoman!

 

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© 2020 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Strange Attraction

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Face of the mermaid is drifting in the sky
Where she haunts the mountains in the clouds
She shows me a sea of fertility
Or drainaway earth I die to be sown in

Her eyes magnetise like a strange attractor
Message in slow time from the heart of chaos
And for all the slaps in her tail
She wakes me fresh to the real dream

From the heart of creation
I’ll seek no distraction
No escape from this
Strange attraction

I am in love and strung up in a whirlwind
My cinders rise up to where she lives
Fanning my flames in her secret smile
Soothing my summer in the languishing swamp

Standing at the sea edge, aiming to fly
I see you, queen of my dreams
Your higher being comes alive and shines
In your eyes with such gentle love

From the heart of creation
I’ll seek no distraction
No escape from this
Strange attraction

“How heavenly it is ~ to be floating in a warm wet void
Music from the event horizon moves through soft asylum”

In this hour of all hours and this pain of no pains
There’s no pain to be wrapped up with you
It’s all in the mind and all is good
It’s all in the mind and all is good

From the heart of creation
I’ll seek no distraction
No escape from this
Strange attraction

 

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© 2020 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Accidental Sweetheart

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In the silence dark as this night
I watch you pinned back in your dream
I hear you chatter nonsense as you breathe
My light shows how smooth you are
Your eyelids drawn shut and your skin pulled tight
Breathing loud and smacking your lips for water

Accidental Sweetheart
Asleep, she has to be kissed
Accidental Sweetheart
One more blink and she’s missed

You are trusting to the utmost degree
Here in the limelight of my love
How soft your bare and tender arms
I must kiss you now . . . 
Will you soon forget
And dream my kiss was someone else?

Accidental Sweetheart
Asleep, she has to be kissed
Accidental Sweetheart
One more blink and she’s missed

Going down little lanes together
Next day wondering why
Once only ever
Never to be so close again
Like two sticks in the river
Caught for an instant in the flow
Two sticks in the river
Aaah oh . . .

Subdued as your music is
I can’t share your torments and bliss
I can’t unlock the secrets of your deep
As I fear I see you far, far away
Can our love reach right through your sleep?
Unconsciously, does it even exist?

Accidental Sweetheart
Asleep, she has to be kissed
Accidental Sweetheart
One more blink and she’s missed

 

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© 2020 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Watching the Show

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Watching the show that the Indians show me
Down the hazy plains of sunset
The process of distillation goes on
The cities of illusion are in chaos
Waiting for restoration
At the brink of holocaust

We must keep silent and dare not disturb
These precarious props of shards in strife
To build a new empire of crystal dreams ~
The hubbub to settle

Watching the show that the Indians show me
Down the hazy plains of sunset
These slow nights of darkness
Bring new adversaries
They don’t care what we wear tonight
Our armour’s fading fast

Hurled like a bullet in train, car or plane
We feel the earth no more beneath us

In the past we understood
Things no longer remembered
In the past we knew
Why the stars are there

Watching the show that the Indians show me
Down the hazy plains of sunset
The process of distillation goes on

Goes on . . .

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

TV Creeping Song

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I’m the one who walks outside
Transparent with the tide
Where shapes and ghosts feed upon
My black and deep desires
There hangs a crystal shadow
Wrapped around a hidden fire

In the dark, disappearing
Don’t even notice me, as I roam the downs at night
My brutal wishes dispelling ~
Secret power rises where no eyes are prying
Far from creeping TV towns

Me, oh me, left out to freeze
My true love forsaken
Heart stamped with mud
Who are they? ~ I feel so sullied
Bloated on corrupted waters

They drive round looking for things
To feel disgusted with
I’m living in the future now
When they’re all gone
This thing I have become
Is a carbon copy of no one

In the dark, disappearing
Don’t even notice me, as I roam the downs at night
My brutal wishes dispelling ~
Secret power rises where no eyes are prying
Far from creeping TV towns

No one will fight for me
No one knows who I am
I’ll scream like an animal
I will spite the numbing pain
I’ll start it up again

Night time on the Downs
Far from creeping TV towns
I will never surrender to these cold grey ghosts
Slithering beneath their stone
The shame hides itself onscreen
Sucking holes in the human soul

In the dark, disappearing
Don’t even notice me, as I roam the downs at night
My brutal wishes dispelling ~
Secret power rises where no eyes are prying
Far from creeping TV towns

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

The Time of Great Waste

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So the wreckers are going to Mars
To drive around and suck things up
Trading in green trees and grass
For a hell of red dust
There’s nothing on Mars for us
The Time of Great Waste is upon us

In sealed-up tins they can never leave
They try to bodge a world from scratch
Their skins will wither and bleach
On a bare planet of rust
There’s nothing on Mars for us
The Time of Great Waste is upon us

I’m not tired of living here
It’s great to breathe — free air
I don’t want to live in a bubble
Too blind to mind my own mess

I’m not an empty vacuum
I won’t trade — the trees
For a land without sea
There’s nothing on Mars for me
But a Morlock factory

With the DNA of paradise
Trailing like cigar ash
The Time of Great Waste is upon us

So the wreckers are going to Mars
To drive around and suck things up
Trading in green trees and grass
For a hell of red dust
There’s nothing on Mars for us
The Time of Great Waste is upon us
And it must pass

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

I is an Other

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Your spinning dance is delirious
I won’t ask you why the circles
Why d’they keep on turning us, love?
They won’t let us fake a twirl
As one hoops down upon another
It meets and merges us . . .

Organic dancefloor whereupon we go

I ain’t here, you ain’t here
We’re just watching, it’s amazing
Down to earth and we’re up phasing
I is an Other, you are me
Don’t forget what we see
We’re going to be free

It’s been death to “The End” all along
But now Aurora is effervescing
There’s a road to go dancing for
With symphonic threads a-twirling
The long march to freedom
Even in our unpaid ballroom

I ain’t here, you ain’t here
We’re just watching, it’s amazing
Down to earth and we’re up phasing
I is an Other, you are me
Don’t forget what we see
We’re going to be free

Baby, I love to see you dance in the afternoon
Let’s get close up inside your womb
Buzzing bodies melting, melting
. . . Far out . . .

When the night is humming, and no one’s coming
I’ll wait for you in your room
Beneath a steel-ice moon of blue

Your spinning dance is delirious
I won’t ask you why the circles
Why d’they keep on turning us, love?
They won’t let us fake a twirl
As one hoops down upon another
It meets and merges us . . .

Organic dancefloor whereupon we go

I ain’t here, you ain’t here
We’re just watching, it’s amazing
Down to earth and we’re up phasing
I is an Other, you are me
Don’t forget what we see
We’re going to be free

When the night is humming, and no one’s coming
I’ll wait for you in your room
Beneath a steel-ice moon of blue

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Connected to Remote Sunrise

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I’m tripping and know I don’t need it
People do nothing but limp it
You’ve got the same old slave grin
You lost your roaring wave in

We found out night in perfect silence
Drowned in rapids of indulgence
The punch of time now streaming
Will betray our bad dreaming

The comet trickles to oblivion
Hung up with menacing precision
The sea is gleaming quicksilver
Mighty with meaning that shivers

Warlike sparks of obscurity
Skies dim with satellites . . .
Shall we never be
Rapt in mystery?

In response to our host’s message
Which the living stars encourage
Eyes meet in the evening light
Scanning harmonies out of sight

People of skittles lose their fear
Find out why they really are here:
Time is made up of flowing eyes
Connected to remote sunrise . . .

May they find their freedom and soul
Endless reaching for a goal
The Child in the wasteland ~ all alone
The Child within that smiles alone

The child who will live behind the wild curtain

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Whiteladies Road

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I hate the sound of the mob this time of year

The black evenings and yahoo smells
Get up my mortal nose
I won’t go where others go
On Whiteladies Road

This street, up the old hill
Is seething with new beauties and thugs
With dusk they begin to cluck
Spending their beginner’s luck

They wear the frayed jeans of street kids
But can’t match their swagger
I walk with no comrades
But hunger

Here come some dressed as Caesars
I cross my eyes to confront the show
Embrace the difference out on my own
On Whiteladies Road

Who is worth less than everyone else?

All the young dudes, drowning in debts
They think I’m sad ~ I think they’re sad
Bailed out by parents, they throw up their chips
Trample front gardens and tear off dustbin lids

If it’s possible for us all to live like these flibbertigibbets
If this is the way we breed or say hello
Come join the banquet
On Whiteladies Road

Girl on her back by the traffic lights
Kicks her legs out ~ trying to rise
‘Give the dog a bone!’ some wag shouts
Then trots to his mates with some traffic cones

They won’t make me meaningless as I walk home
Up Whiteladies Road

Up Whiteladies Road
Whiteladies Road

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Twitch Doctor

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I’ll be your twitch doctor
dull as an ache
The realms you attempt to raise
are silent now
They don’t make a stitch
in my rusty frame

I’ve timed the size of my disguise
and look back on
La la la la la, oh yea-a-h
with wondrous eyes

Like an old basket case
that twinkles in space
An over-riding boredom
sticks my crate in the glue
Stifling every moment
that it wastes with you

You don’t know how it feels
universe of nothing made real
Watch rivers unwind in slime
I’m fed up with your mind

I’ve timed the size of my disguise
and look back on
La la la la la, oh yea-a-h
with wondrous eyes

Will anything ever get done
following the sun?
Does anyone still care
with sunglasses in their hair?
When nothing is freely given
you tie yourself in ribbons

I’ve timed the size of my disguise
and look back on
La la la la la, oh yea-a-h
with wondrous eyes

“Do not reject the hero in your soul …
Keep holy your highest hope!”   [Nietzsche]

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

The House of Lost Children

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They won’t let me do things I want
They won’t tame me like a robot
Nor tempt me to the factory
Where they make plastic swans out of everybody
And to think rock’n’roll has come to this
A girl with designer tits
Asks what my problem is ~

In the House of Lost Children
I’ve been locked away
I will commit myself to nothing
Save to moan and be unhappy
In the House of Lost Children
They’ve hidden all the keys

I’ll never take their King’s shilling
No matter what they dress it up in
I’m not famous or rich
But don’t have to hide when I go outside
I live in a room between miseries
And when I try to sing
They bang on the ceiling

Must I always be
Trapped at the beginning?
In the House of Lost Children
I’ve been condemned to drift
In a cell of no space
Really no space at all

I’ll wander off and be childish
Or never do the work to set me free
Long ago I came to grief
Carelessly tossed aside
I turned up mixed up
In the House of Lost Children
Soured at the age of education

I can’t buy my way out
They took away my pocket money
And gave it to the mediocrity
It seems I’ll never move on
If I don’t finish this song
The things they’d have me do

In the House of Lost Children
I’ve been locked away
I will commit myself to nothing
Save to moan and be unhappy
In the House of Lost Children
I’ll forge my own way
And then we shall see
Who’s got the key

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

The End of Nowhere

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I know what it’s all about
I know what I can’t get
That summer I got so upset
Running to catch the green sunset

The end of nowhere is near
The end of nowhere is here

Thought I’d go out
Just one last wish for you
Locked inside my room
You don’t know how it feels

The end of nowhere is near
The end of nowhere is here

Lying sideways in a field
The wild air blows your shield
You live in a very dry world
You won’t let your feelings unfold

You’re an unreachable forest
I’ll do what I do best
Just wander and drift
Until my love for you is dead

The end of nowhere is near
The end of nowhere is here

A new someone will appear

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Effigy Town

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Psychedelic illness, it beggars belief
Flowers of poverty, anger and peace
I’ll go forth – silently needling
The whining madness.
Bandwagons rise, sex and fashion . . .
Dole drums in the sadness.

Effigy Town, down by the sea
Almost lovely town, no one here for me
No one for my smile – when the sun comes around
The losers and the mutterers
Float down heaven’s orphan gutters
And there’s no one here to fall in love with.

Peer pressures bleed, child squat rots
Charred stoppers in their mental knots
Frozen-eyed diggers of kicks lump in
Gobbling pills and alcohol.
Jump in a hole just to call them friends, then
Crucify lungs in their ashtray temple.

One more effigy come to make free
In Sandcastle-on-Sea.

Lovely squatter girl, a dream in woollen tights
Your eyes are diamond lights –
Why d’you put up with him?
He drags you round the dumps he haunts, and publicly flaunts
Not much for lovers in losers’ paradise
But somewhere to get sick in.

Effigy Town, down by the sea
Almost lovely town, no one here for me
No one for my smile – when the sun comes around
The losers and the mutterers
Float down heaven’s orphan gutters
And there’s no one here to fall in love with.

Loaves we’ll snatch from bins
And in the skip where we’ll live we’ll sing;
On fine white nights I’ll be a poet –
In the morning find me on the beach
Poor mother’s gurning angel
My dreams put out of reach.

One more effigy come to make free
In Sandcastle-on-Sea.

And if the joke wears thin
I’ll write songs without guitar strings
And howl them for you in the street
Where disappointment runs deep;
And if I grow old I’ll not reform
Nor grieve my shrunken seed.

Effigy Town, down by the sea
Almost lovely town, no one here for me
No one for my smile – when the sun comes around
The losers and the mutterers
Float down heaven’s orphan gutters
And there’s no one here to fall in love with.

How I’ve longed for a newer thought – a vision shifting emphasis
How I’ve longed for something – or someone – to blow me alive . . .
To feel the way I do
For you see I’m not a coward yet I blame myself for everything.

~ Go freely forth with a newer thought.

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Normal by Numbers

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Little gardens are commuters’ cages
Using fibre optics they slam down to work
Self-replicating androids in iron vaults
Eating up cake in the strong room

Normal by numbers
How smoothly the escalators shift them
Normal by numbers
Sleepless moans in smoky zones
Normal by numbers
They live – we sleep

Dawn of the dead in the street
Traipsing past their traffic wardens
Into new mock-up towers of Babylon ~
Planned designs, architects in delight

Normal by numbers

Shrunken heads are the spite of life
Sitting on the tube you feel the leers
Grey flannel sweat clamped in need
Like golfballs strung tied inside

Perjuring the innocent and dancing
To dreary discordant sighs and everyday lies
Hanging round somebody else’s neck on a string
They don’t want you to see the other thing:
‘Computer virus AIDS transmitted by virtual reality’

Normal by numbers
How smoothly the escalators shift them
Normal by numbers
Sleepless moans in smoky zones
Normal by numbers
They live – we sleep

Dribbling chins are bad enough
Letting down a face-pulled mask
The real me is delicately ‘mental’
On the other hand, not ‘accidental’

Normal by numbers
How smoothly the escalators shift them
Normal by numbers
Sleepless moans in smoky zones
Normal by numbers
They live – we sleep

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

Millennium Man

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‘Millenn-i-um’ x 2

Can you throw away the little sticks you hold?
Stop being told you’re growing old
There’s no one else inside but you
No one else, with nothing to do
But fly your own horse back to the source
While the aim of you is still new

If your friends confine you and you’ve fed them up
Things might seem so dirty and mean
Sickening in a starving dream
If the people all want consolation
In drugged out queues of isolation
From cradle to grave with no imagination
~ They won’t look at the stars!

May the little man in your heart
Find a new face, burn a new place of peace
In the lake of ice your laughing spirit escapes
Dreams drawing spirit gold
Creation won’t be bought and sold
Higher than the ache of fire
Higher than the ache of fire

I sometimes wonder just what’s left for me
Lapping up the milk of processed gods
Eyes collected at the TV steeple
Crowds like adverts for dumb-dumb people
Won’t get to see unless I break their signal –
And though my face fall right through a wall
Vain reflection’s worth nothing at all

‘Millenn-i-um Ma-an’ x 2

With gaping mouths and a religious stuffing
Of money to feed their cold grey boasts
Who will drive out these puritan ghosts
Possessed to meddle in the human future –
Hideous beasts in the beat computer?
A tense electric fence to numb the pain?
Or is it stone age gangs again?

May the little man in your heart
Find a new face, burn a new place of peace
In the lake of ice your laughing spirit escapes
Dreams drawing spirit gold
Creation won’t be bought and sold
Higher than the ache of fire
Higher than the ache of fire

‘Millenn-i-um Ma-an’ x 4

 

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© 2016 Pete Gioconda & Three Face Music

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