Walk the street
See the pumping jerks
And hear macho beats
Wearing open shirts
Medallion amongst hairs
Mirror men in the bogs
But even they have to stop
To watch humping dogs
Author: shaun tenzenmen
Australasian DIY music specialist and practising poet, amongst other things
Let Down – 17th April 1988
Why does it always happen to me?
Someone comes along and makes me happy
Then they disappear like they didn’t care
And I feel let down, deflated of air
I guess I expect too much
And my pride gets hurt
I never ask for much
But all I get is dirt
Old Fashioned Romance – 16th April 1988
Where’s the romance? The candles and flowers?
On moonlit verandahs talking for hours?
Where’s the romance? Lost in bed?
There’s no romance cos love is dead
Nothing To Do (With It) – 15th April 1988
You say you’re bored
But I think you enjoy it
You say there’s nothing to do
But that’s nothing to do with it
Baby Baby – 14th April 1988
I met you in the bar last night
And I’m meeting you today
I hope that I get my lines right
Cos I want to get my end away
Baby baby, don’t say maybe
Crocodile – 13th April 1988
There’s a crocodile in the bath
I guess it came through the hole
I’d like to see Czechoslovakia
And the chance to meet a Pole
Nothing you say is ever true
But it’s ok if you believe in what you do
Animal Farm – 12th April 1988
Seeing blind stupidity
Just pathetic apathy
And dreaming consciously
Doped up with sanity
Crucifix – 11th April 1988
Crux of complexity
Influx of society
Crannies or crooks
No violence – just looks
Crucifixation in terms
Contradiction soon learns
Religion has no ethics
Just in need of a new fix
Ivan The Terrible – 10th April 1988
A man born of concentration
Is now a victim of your extermination
Atrocities of ages past
You can have your revenge at last
Find a scapegoat, say ‘he’s the one’
Your court of law can’t be wrong
The trial seemed fair to you
And to a hundred thousand other Jews
Now you can exercise your right
To exterminate another life
David’s Tale – 9th April 1988
Sad but true is David’s tale
The winds did change when he set sail
See him now his face is pale
Watch the conqueror start to fail
Through seventy days of pain and toil
Never in sight of a comfortable soil
The seas they did begin to boil
The monsters came to claim their spoil
So here ends David’s song
To which no epitaph can belong
1994ever 