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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 8, 2017 9:12:20 GMT
A yellow cab from JFK, the long way round I didn't mind...gave me thinking time before I ran aground On rocky memories and choking tears I believe it only rained round here in thirty years
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 10, 2017 9:04:17 GMT
Sharp ears are tuned in to the drones and chanters warming. Mist blowing round some headland, somewhere in your memory. Everyone is from somewhere Even if you've never been there. So take a minute to remember the part of you That might be the old man calling me.
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 13, 2017 8:23:54 GMT
More a reference than geography A tentative dawn about to be breaking on a Rousseau garden with monkeys in hiding. The truth of the matter, yet to be spoken in words on which everything, everything's riding. Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 16, 2017 8:52:13 GMT
Later, in the wee small hours there was heavy traffic on the radio. Scare at a channel port, small craft warnings to keep to shore. Lobstermen thought they saw a submarine Half submerged suspiciously. Though I arrived too late, I'm sure she blew a kiss to me As the sub sailed out to sea.
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 18, 2017 8:40:13 GMT
And what better than to admire this icon of British craftsmanship - the Morris Minor Traveller New blood, old veins, kids can’t wait to be gone. Next door, jealous neighbours peeping through the curtains drawn. Half-timbered Morris Traveller. Pop the luggage in the back. On the ferry, getting merry, bending over, builder’s crack.
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 20, 2017 8:51:22 GMT
Somebody's home in the ash-fall margins; Somebody's life in the lost and found. Breaking news from the hotel Vue Pointe. Sinking feeling, sink another beer down
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 24, 2017 9:03:36 GMT
You could cut the heat, peel it back with the wrong side of a knife. Feel it blowing from the sidefills, feel like you were playing for your life, If not the money. Hot night in Budapest.
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stevep
Master Craftsman
Posts: 429
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Post by stevep on Dec 24, 2017 15:17:30 GMT
"Somebody's home in the ash-fall margins; Somebody's life in the lost and found. Breaking news from the hotel Vue Pointe. Sinking feeling, sink another beer down"
Always liked those lyrics as my family lived in Monterrat from 1965 to 1977. We used to go to the View Pointe Hotel to watch films (for a while it was the only place to see them as there was no cinema and it was long long before videos). I learned to swim in the View Pointe Hotel pool. I also loaned a few of my Tull and ELP albums to a Radio Antilles DJ to play on his radio show. Probably an executable offense nowadays but nobody seemed to mind then. I bet the Caribbean folk enjoyed the full 3LP ELP album rather than the local reggae...
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 28, 2017 8:42:47 GMT
Right time but the wrong idea. Well, you're making it all sound just the same. Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale still over there in Berkeley Square
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 1, 2018 8:42:22 GMT
Out there, far beyond Victorian piers and palisades Have to toss the candy floss. No more ginger beers or lemonades
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 5, 2018 8:39:50 GMT
When you're falling awake And you take stock of the new day And you hear your voice croak As you choke on what you need to say
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Post by steelmonkey on Jan 5, 2018 17:50:36 GMT
Naturally we wits at Oberlin College in 1975 amended the lyrics to fit our worldview: 'Life's a Full Bong'.
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 7, 2018 8:35:45 GMT
I wish I had an eagle like you To look up to He could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky Up above the whole machine
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 10, 2018 9:33:48 GMT
Black and viscous, bound to cure blue lethargy Sugar-plum petroleum for energy Tightrope-balanced payments need a small reprieve Oh, please believe we want to be In North Sea Oil
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 12, 2018 8:40:30 GMT
With claws that rake a furrow red Licensed to mutilate From warm milk on a lazy day To dawn patrol on hungry hate No, the mouse police never sleeps Climbing on the ivy Windy roof-top weathercock Warm-blooded night on a cold tile
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 13, 2018 9:20:02 GMT
Interesting article in the S*n about Blackpool here: linkPleasure Beach wooden roller coaster Wild Mouse has been demolished – 60 years after it launchedWild Mouse was one of the last remaining four wooden Wild Mouse roller coasters in the world, but it has been taken down to make way for more modern rides
By Caroline McGuire, Digital Travel Editor 8th January 2018
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 14, 2018 8:46:58 GMT
I smiled through her fingers and ran the dust through her hands The hour-glass of reason on the Summerday Sands
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 16, 2018 8:34:59 GMT
They're busy building airports on the south side... Silicon chip factory on the east And the big road's pushing through along the valley floor Hot machine pouring six lanes at the very least
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Post by nonrabbit on Jan 19, 2018 21:37:27 GMT
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Post by bunkerfan on Jan 20, 2018 7:32:25 GMT
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 20, 2018 8:31:15 GMT
Wimpy Burger UK are making a comeback after being in the wilderness for a long while. Edinburgh had two Wimpy Bars in the 60's. Maybe the young Ian had these in mind when he penned the lyrics or maybe one of the numerous ones in London.
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Post by steelmonkey on Jan 20, 2018 17:38:15 GMT
MDF...coincidence or design?...your freeway exit for Crest lyrics is 30 miles southwest of my home in Menlo Park, California, near Stanford University and the heart of Silicon Valley....Silicon Chip Factories indeed.
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Post by steelmonkey on Jan 20, 2018 17:38:56 GMT
In fact, the silicon chip factories are east of that off ramp.
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 21, 2018 8:34:00 GMT
MDF...coincidence or design?...your freeway exit for Crest lyrics is 30 miles southwest of my home in Menlo Park, California, near Stanford University and the heart of Silicon Valley....Silicon Chip Factories indeed. Coincidence Bernie. Just thought it was a photograph so near the lyrical truth. Mind you I could say it was it was after hours of research and just a modicum of BS
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 21, 2018 8:58:11 GMT
They hitch their covered wagons and they roll out west Politics in the pockets of their Sunday best Shaking hands, kissing babies for all that they're worth Oh, they promise you gold, promise heaven on earth
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 22, 2018 16:15:21 GMT
She wore a black tiara Rare gems upon her fingers And she came from distant waters Where northern lights explode PHOTO: KARL OLAFFSON
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 25, 2018 8:41:46 GMT
There must be another Eden: future garden of earthly delight Next time, no fruit; in birthday suit, walk naked through the heavenly night As we navigate this desert by our cold dead reckoning
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Post by maddogfagin on Jan 28, 2018 8:43:15 GMT
And down at the airport are probably waiting A few thousand passengers, overbooked seating Time long suspended in transit-lounge traumas Connections broken and Special Branch watching Conspicuously standing in holiday clothing Black Sunday falls one day too soon
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Post by nonrabbit on Jan 28, 2018 10:47:16 GMT
The blokes expression (bottom left) says it all!
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Post by bunkerfan on Jan 29, 2018 9:24:47 GMT
The blokes expression (bottom left) says it all! And here's me thinking everyone was happy going on holiday.
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