Funky Things – 6th June 1987

I sit at home and watch TV
I try and count to three
I read a book yesterday
I fell asleep halfway

Try and think of things to do
Try and think of things to be
The doctor says to eat an apple
And I just watch TV

I like to count telephone rings
Sometimes I don’t like anything
I eat lots of strawberry ice cream
Something is not what it seems (but I forget)

I count the lampposts in my street
Ten funky things on my feet
I watch sand drying on the beach
I ate something which just didn’t agree

Dream Torture – 8th May 1987

Original formatting above and the text, however WordPress ends up formatting it, below

I walk in shadows and I talk in silence
I dictate my abuse and my violence
I cry loud and you cry louder
I’ll make you itch without a powder

Don’t talk to me about her
She is my love, she is my sun
She is mine, she is the one
She is my love, she is my hope
She’ll take my violence when I can’t cope
Don’t talk to me about her

I stir the dust and create the wind
I use emotions from deep within
Cracks in the sidewalk, my hiding place
I’ll make you itch when we’re face to face

Don’t talk to me about her
She is my love, she is my dream
She is mine, she is the cream
She is my love, she hides my sin
She’ll blinds my violence from deep within
Don’t talk to me about her

I have these visions of broken dreams
I have to hear my victim’s screams
I don’t see what my violence caused
So long as I know my problem’s solved

Tumbledown Hill – 3rd April 1987

Walking down long beaten tracks
Shuffling dust rises and falls
Birds whisper amongst the bows
Relaying long and distant calls

The sun beats down on broken backs
The fury transforms to lumber and bodies relax
When evening fall the fire’s are alight
Dancing together across the night

Screams breach the stillness and silence
The performance has begun
Many miles have been travelled
And many stories are to be sung

So the voices keep all hopes burning
The dark of night is slowly turning
Everything will fall silent and still
Except the singing of the will
Come lay beside me, on top of Tumbledown Hill

Idle chatter reverberates across the crowds
Fires ebb away as breakfast is eaten
The carnival against the sky, stands defiant
The peace and goodwill cannot be beaten

Stand aside you spectres and ghost of uniform
This is a free spirit which cannot be torn
Stand aside with your guns and shields
Violence is what your profession wields

Let the children dance naked in the rain
Let them free from your hypocrisy and pain
Let the flow of freedom gain
Let the freedom flow again

So the voice keep the spirit a-kindled
Even as the numbers dwindled
Everything will be silent and still
‘cept the singing of the will
Come lay down my darling, on top of Tumbledown Hill

Bag Of Bones – 28th March 1987

Don’t ask me what it’s all about
We’re all just acting roles
The life blood and emotions
Wrapped in a bag of bones

Don’t kiss me in the morning
When the skies are blue
I’ll blow your mind by Sunday
So you can join me too

I’m tripping over buildings
Trapped in your telephones
Screaming from the inside
Wrapped in a bag of bones

Don’t ask me what’s the meaning
Of life and alcohol
I sit alone on desert dunes
Contemplating the animals

Wrap me in your arms
Touch me with your toes
A comfort and warming
This skinny bag of bones

1st May 2025 – A slight rearrangement of these words in the recording below though they are barely audible. I’m confused at how I managed to jag the saxophone sounding fairly melodic and in tune with the song. I had no idea what I was doing with the thing and it got sold soon after Hate That Smile broke up and I needed money. Written sometime in 1987 these words didn’t get used in a song until 1989.