#1
Ladies and gentlemen, here is my second poem, entitled Vodka Intimate, this one is big, at twenty one parts and twenty one pages... Crit For Crit, of course. Story behind this. Short version is that the two main story lines in it are the "Harlequin" and "Sorrow" Storylines. Harlequin happened to be my drummer's girlfriend. I liked her, she liked me, you know how it works, except I stopped it from happening because, well, I don't want to that to one of my closest friends. Sorrow was my best friend, who liked me, but she was already going out with someone, so I couldn't be evil. So there you go. Enjoy =)

P.S. I would just like to add, this was written about a month after "Knife Edge Living" Which means I'd been writing for a month when I started writing this. It was written from 2nd December - 27th December 2007.

Vodka Intimate

Part 1 - Harlequin


Harlequin stares across the room,
Seduction fills her eyes,
I can't help but to stare back,
To give her my disguise,
She makes her move and begins to walk,
Walking in walkman form,
High heel temptress in alcohol glow,
Miniskirts an electrical storm,
Instrumental friction engulfs my mind,
Martini moments take their toll,
Promoting sympathy with a hangover hold,
And no way of birth control,
Your wake up call comes before you can sleep,
A worried religious right,
Justified by yet another caffeinated night cap,
With another party tonight.

Harlequin stares right into my eyes,
But she sits and holds his hand,
I see them both and his gaze has wandered,
And I begin to walk into no man's land,
He realises what he has found in her,
And what she likes to be,
So, of course, he goes with the easiest option,
And they both confide in me,
Matrimonious gestures engulfed in flames,
From my spoken exaggerations,
So just like before he takes her back,
So I suppose congratulations,
And Harlequin see and Harlequin do,
And he forgives again,
But the last tensions break,
Her last mistake,
And now is my time in the rain.

Part 2 – Sorrow

Part a - Confidence


Sorrow never did seem so sorrowful,
She was just waiting for her prince,
But all she could come across was her frog,
And she's been sorrowful ever since.

Another confidee,
Confide in me,
But confiding is a two way game,
And I was but the same.

Sorrow never did seem so sorrowful,
Just looking for a prince,
But all she found was a frog and a Joker,
But the Joker will try to convince.

A gesture taken much too well,
With all puns aside, and within my stride,
My heaven turned into hell.

Part b – Emotional Gestures

Her frog/prince turned into a knight,
A black knight intent on killing the Joker,
The Joker resolves the crisis,
And Sorrow returns to thrilling the Joker.

Sorrow sees through the prince camouflage,
To see the frog beneath,
Confides the Joker face to face,
To find him underneath.

And so the Joker drowned in Sorrow.

Part c – Resolution Revolution

With perfection realised Sorrow hails a thief,
And a knight in shining armour,
Sees a dawn break from the sleep,
Of a Joker.

Part 3 – Vodka Intimate

Part a – AA


I'm a vodka intimate I shall admit,
To cruise in an alcohol lit neon wonderland,
I shall admit I'm a vodka intimate,
That path remained unplanned.

Half drank bottle still lies in my hands,
Staring the bottle,
Lifting the bottle,
Drinking the bottle,
Fully drank bottle still lies in my hands.

Part b – Bottled Nightmares

A request of righteousness,
With a fleeting mind,
Stiffened upper lips,
The deaf should lead the blind,
Harlequin and Sorrow still dance around me,
They both take a hand and walk,
In opposite directions.

Part c – Neon Wonderland

Entering a neon wonderland,
Isn't as fun as it seems,
One and two,
Not what to do,
To end my bottled dreams,
Exiting a neon wonderland,
Is something I'd like to share,
God may know,
Where to go,
To begin my bottled nightmare,

Trapped in a land,
Of the hopeless and the damned,
With nowhere left to go,
So with nothing to do,
I bid you a due,
And guess what, he knows, you know.

Walking a neon wonder world,
Is harder than you think,
And gone this time,
To wine and dine,
You see with invisible ink,
To take a neon wonder life,
Is bitter by itself,
A pinch of salt,
And a tequila shot,
To but to relieve myself.

And so I did,
But it didn't work,
Never does,
Never will.

Part 4 – The Melodic Refugee

Sitting in a room with my eyes wide shut,
Living a lie of lives,
This is my lie, die for a cry, to say goodbye,
Giving these times, living off my own lies
Living off a word, a word of luck.

Playing in this room of forgotten cause,
Hoping another life,
Going insane, from controlling the blame, just playing the game,
Of the melodic refugee,
To back stark applause, stark applause.

Part 5 – Hilltop Chess

That indesirable second lasted for hours,
Colliding all the superpowers,
And bringing them to another game,
To which we all will claim fame,
And the knights from Bolton begin to flee,
I was one, now just a memory,
An endorsee of Brixton life,
The carrier of a pocket knife.

And going back to royal arms,
Royal fanfare moments to bless the eye,
With hilltop chess to leave me dry.

With fleeting mind with memoir memories,
A refugee with a minor cause,
With hilltop chessboards to protest the mark,
Of what I am or what I was.

That coveted hour seeps into seconds,
Beginning to worry when the end of your life beckons,
Colliding a vodka intimate,
With a joker's wit,
Into yet another hopeless game,
Of Bolton chess to mark your fame,
From pawns to rooks to queens to knights,
To play them of their human rights.

And going back to royal arms,
Royal fanfare moments to bless the eye,
With hilltop chess to leave me dry.

With fleeting mind with memoir memories,
A refugee with a minor cause,
With hilltop chessboards to protest the mark,
Of what I am or what I was.

Part 6 – Arranging Shadows

A silk satin gown drifts past my eyes,
Walks up the stairs to say her last goodbyes,
Come hither finger in my direction,
To rid me of my vodka intimate erection.

And up the stairs to my dismay,
Harlequin stands in the doorway.

With Sorrow on my shoulder,
A whisper in my ear,
Harlequin takes me near.

Remember me? The one you loved?
De ja vu,
De ja vu,
And she led me by the hand,
To a heaven of four posts,
But my hell emerged of old ghosts,
And my hell emerged from old ghosts.

Part 7 – Harlequin Hauntings

Part a – Natural Intent


A nine month bombshell begins to tick,
And Harlequin refuses to defuse this bedside joyride,
So that gives me nine months for an excuse.

Emotionless without my Sorrow,
Yet regret and remorse begin to sink in,
So I might as well enjoy the ride,
As uncomfortable as it is,
The end is always the best.

Part b – First Light, Last Breath

The bomb's last tick for a vodka intimate,
Brings around a joyous occasion for all,
Until the fall of the Harlequin hero.

The death of a Harlequin and Harlequin child,
Leaves a heart-stricken, heartbroken Joker,
And Sorrow smiled.

Part c – Deafening Light

Wake up in the night, seeing Harlequins eyes,
And a portion of me believed,
That she is still here and this isn't untrue,
For the Joker has been deceived.

And Harlequin restored everything back,
And advanced the Joker to their four poster lair,
And music was played until first light,
For even Joker's can have their fun,
And Harlequin wanted only the same,
And the retreat and regret of Sorrow,
Who had left the Joker's mind,
Left it all behind,
Left it all for her.

Part d – Harlequin Intimate

Now the vodka intimate had left his life,
To become a Harlequin intimate, Harlequin addict,
But what of him?
He joins the show, for another two way love triangle,
Three ways to see love tangle,
But he insists.

And the Harlequin intimate may do his bit,
But he won't back down, nor shall he quit,
He'll break this down bit by bit,
Just like I did before he left.

Part e – The Addict's Lifeline

Last supper comes for me far too late,
Harlequin cries but it's him to blame,
And I must be on my merry way,
Before I stop and regret this day,
But I can't go and leave this life,
Of scented Harlequin, an addict's lifeline,
And just before I lay the blame,
He disappears without a trace.

And he drowned in Sorrow.
Gear:

Epiphone Sheraton 1962 50th Anniversary 212TV,

Ibanez TS-9 Tube Screamer,
Dunlop MXR Carbon Copy,
Vox V847 Wah-Wah,

Vox TB35C1.
#2
Part 8 – Stereo Hero

Part a – Vodka Intimate Reunions


A memory erased from a present past,
Hoping to speak on his behalf,
With Sorrow on his shoulder,
Harlequin on his back,
The Joker pursues yet another career,
In the entertainment business,
As a Jester.

Courting young temptress melts the heart,
Melodrama ticking stops the freezing window pain,
And with no more company to keep me insane,
I find the vodka intimate ego creeping up on me again.

The past ignored by the present dash,
With the next speaking on their behalf,
With a stereo hero pushed into the background,
And on the high ground,
To break the back ground.

Courting young temptress melts the heart,
Melodrama ticking stops the freezing window pain,
And with no more company to keep me insane,
I find the vodka intimate ego creeping up on me again.

Part b – The Note

A Jester once, twice a Joker,
Thought he could write of but mediocre,
Depressing tales of drink stead players,
And of magazine beauty women seducing men on playing cards,
And of depressed young princesses and search for kind regards,
And him in italics to tell you how I feel,
And it's all auditioned to seal my deal.

And as he faced the sun he cast no shadow.

Part 9 – Playing Card Bodyguard

A tricolour panama takes its toll on another man,
With an upper hand of the dead man's hands,
Playing off their satisfaction,
Of the misplaced reaction,
Specific notices on a chalkboard mirage,
Asking for current entourage,
A mercenary of playing cards,
And a Joker's bodyguard.
Intimacy issues stain his career,
Teabag eyes succumb to his volunteer,
Of vodka intimate smiles,
Of sinful nature speak the minds,
Of their respected owners,
And their lovers.

Travelling with weary feet,
And weary mind,
Cast aside my vodka intimate breath,
My Marlborough soaked lungs,
To fly through another neon wonderland.

Quivering lips suggest that the words shall tremble,
Fall by but a whisper from nervous lips,
But they are true,
The words, so true.

He knows it's over and he can't do a thing,
But before he goes,
He wants to go with a bang.

The bang rings in his ears,
Right from yesteryear,
He enters his neon wonderland,
And his bottled nightmare,
To join his Sorrow,
And they will share,
The Harlequin and Payne.

The tower clock strikes the midnight hour,
And the tower block falls on our power,
Amplified worries cloud a puppet show mind,
And worries that will leave me straight jacket spell bind,
Crazy aphrodisiac leave my senses in a spell bound stare,
If my mind should disappear then maybe it'll be for the better,
Away from the rest of mankind.

God created earth ergonomically, of course,
With Adam, a joker,
And Harlequin, Eve,
Sorrow played God and planned to deceive,
As she was also the snake to play these naive,
Young lovers of their life and their home,
To forbid them of their home.

Without a home to raise my own,
The enchantress decides to build up Rome,
And took soliloquy smiles and painted them on,
All the little china dolls,
Send them off on sodoku wars,
Starving themselves of their own applause.

The water strips me of my life,
As it holds me under,
Just as Harlequin holds me under,
Her spell keeps her as my wife.

The tower clock strikes the midnight hour,
And the tower block falls on our power,
Amplified worries cloud a puppet show mind,
And worries that will leave me straight jacket spell bind,
Crazy aphrodisiac leave my senses in a spell bound stare,
If my mind should disappear then maybe it'll be for the better,
Away from the rest of mankind.

He knows it's over and he can't do a thing,
But before he goes,
He wants to go with a bang.

But before he goes,
He wants to go with a bang.

Part 10 – The Gift

Problem child is a gifted child,
His gift is his problem.

Blunt object security blanket keeps bottled nightmares away,
To numb the feeling on Christmas day,
Mince pie mistress to host the baptised hour,
To the moment of her baby shower,
Brings my time out of the rain.

Harlequin is my problem,
Sorrow is my gift.

Quick dry concrete security blanket keeps him out of neon wonderland,
Keeps his bottle dreams out from unplanned,
With a stereo hero backing in the background,
Hoedown,
He takes his last breath of quick dry cement.

A Joker's problem,
Is a Jester's gift,
Like Harlequins sorrow,
Is Sorrow's gift,
And his problem.

Living a lottery under your jacket,
Yi might beat you in the tax bracket,
But golden showers show some folk will never prosper,
And to return to become again intimate with vodka,
I'm a vodka intimate I shall admit.

And that is my problem,
As is my gift.

Vulture ice skating risking your health,
To make you crawl into you black heath shell,
The damned and the mighty team up again,
To form alliance with the criminally insane,
To perform another political campaign.

From a last gasp last ditch effort,
To save the coffee stained report,
Of the misguided direction,
Of his misplaced childhood,
Two misplaced reaction,
Of a life born from Sorrow,
And ended from Harlequin.

And as he faced the sun he cast no shadow.

Part 11 – The Long Run

Ivy line drips slowly into fate,
As you swallow corporate lies neat,
You know that you can't afford to give up,
The fight has only begun.

To hope on a magpie,
Is as insecure as wireless,
Disillusioned but loved,
She stays for the long run.

Loved and not forgotten,
The Joker's mirage,
Plays adequate part in this twisted play of life,
Giving up the life with a pocket knife,
And stays for the long run.

Dared of many truths she turns another blind eye,
While grave robbers rob the blind night shy dry,
Of anything but ignorance left to the generation past,
The next generation couldn't choose as they cast the fateful dice,
And now with father's past mistakes,
Son has to stay for the long run.

With the long run set,
And the short straw drawn,
The long runners set the pace,
To be met at the end by paparazzo priests,
In which they will be in debt.
For the long run.

The long run will cast aside,
With the movement of a Hiptop slide,
Will do without their hero,
For as much with a pheromone.

Ivy line drips slowly into fate,
As you swallow corporate lies neat,
You know that you can't afford to give up,
The fight has only begun,
To hope on a magpie,
Is as insecure as wireless,
Disillusioned but loved,
She stays for the long run.

Loved and not forgotten,
The Joker's mirage,
Plays adequate part in this twisted play of life,
Giving up the life with a pocket knife,
And stays for the long run.

Part 12 – Four Poster Lair

You've played this scene before.

I cannot escape this four poster lair,
Like the neon wonderland before,
My bottled nightmares begin again,
Like another prisoner of war.

This unlucky verse casts shadows for some,
Your own monopoly game for you own entertainment,
You couldn't afford a Jester,
So hangman longshanks are at your confinement,
And the rust in your hair begins to creep in,
Dawn brushes dusk aside in one fluid motion,
Of an eyelid batting in first morning light,
Before you overdose on your emotion,
With dentist drill eyes you leave your room,
Persuading others it is not your tomb,
And back to confinement the Joker's own goodbye,
But even this word, this one word, is a lie,
"Everything the Joker says is a lie." – (Quote – Harlequin)

Half drank bottle still lies in my hands,
Staring the bottle,
Lifting the bottle,
Drinking the bottle,
Fully drank bottle still lies in my hands,
In my hands.

Confident and not alone the Joker reminisces,
Of past lives playing hilltop chess,
Of lives with pocket knives,
And of Sorrow and Harlequin, to,
But in all the reflection,
He realised perfection,
And sent himself on his merry way,
Out of his four poster lair,
His neon wonderland,
His bottled nightmare,
His vodka intimate life.

With his life realised,
His life intact,
The Joker begins his quest,
In extract.

With his life realised,
His life intact,
The Joker begins his quest,
To attract.

With all of this gone,
Left behind,
The Joker seeks comfort in knowing what he has left,
Into a new sunset,
He begins to ride,
Back to what the Joker left.

I cannot escape this four poster lair,
Like the neon wonderland before,
My bottled nightmares begin again,
Like another prisoner of war.

Part 13 – Next Of Kin

My next of kin is a vodka intimate,
I shall admit he's a vodka intimate,
Initiation rituals merely pass the time,
Of a withered old fool,
And we all know that he speaks his mind,
The vodka intimate's only rule.

Don't be surprised,
Stonecutters always want their share,
Of a love dare.

My next of kin is a vodka intimate,
I shall admit he's a vodka intimate,
Although he draws breath from light,
And dances naked for the night,
And rids himself of Marlborough lungs,
And rides the world for medallions.

Because Stonecutters always want their share,
Of a love dare.

Part 14 – New Found Order

She wrapped Primacord around my neck,
And laughed as if it were a practical joke,
Walked away and pressed the detonator switch,
In an on purpose accidental way that she does,
That she does.

She was only dreaming,
About the new found order,
With new found blood on the rug,
And the walls, and the ceiling.

She wrapped the noose around my neck,
Had a far away gaze as if she were sleep killing,
If there is such a thing,
The Joker's fate has been sealed,
And his fate is there when he falls.

She was only dreaming,
About the new found order,
With new found blood on the rug,
And the walls, and the ceiling.
Gear:

Epiphone Sheraton 1962 50th Anniversary 212TV,

Ibanez TS-9 Tube Screamer,
Dunlop MXR Carbon Copy,
Vox V847 Wah-Wah,

Vox TB35C1.
#3
Part 15 – New Found Offers

Part a – Top Model Lives


With updates for my life,
Seeing passing people with top model lives,
With top notch stereos,
And high range chess boards,
With top line pocket knives,
And top model lives.

Part b – Bring Me Home

And yet I see,
With mock solemnity,
A ghost to haunt my past.

And yet I hope,
Down a kaleidoscope,
A ghost to haunt the last.

A ghost to bring me home,
Bring me home.

Part c – Sleep eazy Motel

With a sense of humour I'm on my way,
With the laughs of Independence Day,
With stead fast ties to keep me dry,
And magazines that please the eye,
And a trusty pack of playing cards,
And a town with plenty of bars,
And people who'll believe my lies.

An inoculation hotel again,
Plastered beds seep into the walls,
With murderers and rapists in the halls.

With a reporter in my room their questions are plain,
"Where the hell did you get all this fame?"
"And who is the Joker and Harlequin, to?"
"And what of Sorrow what does she mean to you?"
And so I vanished or so it would seem,
Because when I woke up it was all but a dream.

Part d – Stark Naked Gossip

The childhood friends were in the back of my mind,
But the back of my mind wasn't enough,
Casted aside,
To begin my new life.

My life as a Jester would have you believe,
That the Joker would fail to upheave,
Harlequin or Sorrow.

We met in a room where the shadows still danced,
With the intimacy of a lap-dance,
Proceeded to talk in morbid form,
Of stark naked gossip up on the walls,
And into the heads of every child,
And with that Sorrow smiled,
No need to panic she began,
We should finally take our own lives into our own hands.

Part e – Playboy Preachers

She had a threshold on my mind and she was going for the kill,
Of a competent mother's warning in a tone of the shrill,
And hoping father faster catches the competent bastard who started the fight,
And for once not to dance naked at night.

Of this metric verse will tell the tale,
Of two competent parents who wanted to fail,
Who wanted to give their child a chance,
To fail himself of a second chance,
To feel useless,
So useless,
And of intimacy issues and stained careers,
And of playboy preachers from yesteryear,
God help this soul,
Who died a long time ago.

Don't be surprised,
Stonecutters always want their share,
Of a love dare.

Don't be surprised,
Stonecutters always want their share,
Of a love dare.

Part 16 – A Love Dare

It was morning yet was still dark,
The love dare had ended,
And the boy laid back,
And dreaded the moment of lives once lived,
Of women and priests and God forbid,
Of the insane and deadly and the politicians to,
Of government people knowing not what to do.

Two triplet lies drip into my eyes,
And the life of a Joker seems to be beckoning again,
I am not a Jester,
Trice not four times should this happen again,
Never again should I believe her lies,
Because I am not a Jester.

Running through walls like a hurricane,
Running out of breath from my Marlborough lungs,
And head feels like one of a vodka intimate,
And with bracelets of fire and rings of smoke,
Left my growth stunted to that of an oak,
And now I admit I'm a vodka intimate,
But to admit is not enough,
Not enough,
Anymore.

And Harlequin restored everything back,
And advanced the Joker to their four poster lair,
And music was played until first light,
For even Joker's can have their fun,
And Harlequin wanted only the same,
And the retreat and regret of sorrow,
Who had left the Joker's mind,
Left it all behind.

But wait,
Haven't we been here before?
With a happy life with Harlequin,
Which twice broke down,
And broke my heart,
Not again,
No way,
I walk away,
I'm not coming back,
Not this time,
Not again.

Part 17 – Part Time

Cat screech tire screech but not in that order,
I watched in disgusted disorder,
Of a refined young feline who just killed a driver,
A survivor.

It's not what I saw it's what I thought,
And what I thought was what I am to do?

What am I to do,
If all I can think of is you?
What am I to do,
Stop thinking?
But there is only one way I can do that.

So in reverse John Wayne fashion he shoots,
But Jokers cannot die…

Part 18 – Another Note

I know I've written love songs before,
And suicide notes but it's all the same,
But this time, I suppose, I mean it,
With quivering lips I trace the knife,
Icicle to end my life,
And I throw it.

And as it faced the sun it cast no shadow.

I know I've tried hard before,
And without conviction I've always failed,
And with conviction I've looked like a fool,
With body bag eyes I stare at you,
You look away in meditative way,
I still stare in vegetative state.

Pampered life of a Harlequin princess,
And of princeless Sorrow.

And as they faced the sun they cast no shadow.

Running through walls like a hurricane,
Running out of breath from my Marlborough lungs,
And head feels like one of a vodka intimate,
And with bracelets of fire and rings of smoke,
Left my growth stunted to that of an oak,
And now I admit I'm a vodka intimate,
But to admit is not enough,
Not enough,
Anymore.

Part 19 – Other Days

I'm no longer allowed to repeat myself,
With that succumb to age,
Holding their lives on their backs,
And wearing their words on their sleaves,
Quickpick of your life by your mother's hand,
Bringing that path unplanned,
Of her command.

Opened box with closed wrapping paper,
Into the halls he meets the raper,
And down cotton bud doorways,
I sit on his couch telling him my dismays,
Of other days.

Courting her of such dreams,
As she courts me of my virginity,
The Harlequin hero remains my dismay,
And she will haunt me to this day,
And hoping of games on the ricochet,
Will haunt me to this day,
On this day.

Opened box with closed wrapping paper,
Into the halls he meets the raper,
And down cotton bud doorways,
I sit on his couch telling him my dismays,
Of other days.

My head is in the middle,
Of a hard place and a rock,
Just let me go,
At four o' clock,
In the tower block,
The tower falls on our power,
With that at the midnight hour,
With that I take my leave.

Opened box with closed wrapping paper,
Into the halls he meets the raper,
And down cotton bud doorways,
I sit on his couch telling him my dismays,
Of other days.

Rolled eyes c*ck eyes haunt my past,
Bringing the vodka intimate to last,
Out in the rain with out a past,
Or a life.

Part 20 – The Game

An affair she had started before it had begun and ended before it started,
A passage that she had so wrongly righted of rite passage she wrote,
I seem to find myself playing the mote in your eye, I, I do,
The Joker came here and he saw to, of what you like to be,
To me it seems a memory remedy is in perfect order,
Spoken notes on a tape recorder that plays back past days in life,
Of nostalgic moments with a pocket knife I've played before,
So just sit down and put your wh*re away I can't play this game.

With your halo of destruction around your head you'll begin your time,
Of a crime in rhyme that'll take you to new heights of fame,
Where you'll play the game to mark your fame of hilltop chess that you rightly claim,
And I know that you'll do it again but you'll never find a chance,
To cash in on your own finance you leave the Magdalene,
You hunt passing strangers with your own sharp routine embezzles them,
And you sit and condemn like your own prisoner of war,
Just like before you jest the Joker.

With a fading light poet weeping in a corner full of tissues,
This old Joker has come to resolve the issues,
That haunt him to this present day,
Of him wondering of what Harlequin would say,
To him.

This game will take its toll on any man but I am not any man I am a Joker,
And Jokers don't jest in mediocre fashion as men do when cornered,
To spit out the third word that comes to mind,
After the third world has wine and dined you refuse them dessert,
Instead you revert the pervert into another vodka intimate,
And make him admit that all his life has failed him,
And does so on a whim and reminisces three wishes of his own,
And now I'll drown in Harlequin's gown because I can't play this game.

Disciples of their own beliefs they parade them on the alleyways,
Until everyday seems too far away and they parade the streets,
Showing the public of past defeats and haunting the souls,
While the Joker reads the scrolls of the Jester long forgotten,
And reads it over and over again until his eyes become ears,
To fool them of auctioneers that want him for one thing,
His resemblance to Martin Luther King makes him collectable in the eyes of the sane,
And the insane keep reign because I can't play this game.

[Spoken]
Hi, my name is Josh and it'll be two hours until my next drink,
Two hours?
Yeah in two hours I get to go home from this place,
Then why do you come here?
Why do you come to a place where people come to quit drinking?
To end their misery that alcoholism brings,
To become healthy again,
Please, share with the group why,
Why would you come here?
And then go home to drink,
And continue the same routine,
Why do you come here?
I come here to stop drinking for two hours.

With a fading light poet weeping in a corner full of tissues,
This old Joker has come to resolve the issues,
Just like before you jest the Joker,
I can't play this game.
Gear:

Epiphone Sheraton 1962 50th Anniversary 212TV,

Ibanez TS-9 Tube Screamer,
Dunlop MXR Carbon Copy,
Vox V847 Wah-Wah,

Vox TB35C1.
#4
Part 21 – Happy Endings

Where are the poets?
A race turned into Jokers,
Could this be the end?
For any revolutionised mercenary.

If time goes by for a Joking playing card hero,
Playing the same scene in your mind,
The magazine layout seems too far done,
For even Jokers can have their fun.

With cotton wool fears of stained careers she walked down the aisle,
You said you'd always be the star, didn't you?
And look at me demoted to watching you from a catwalk,
While you catwalk your way back down the aisle,
The sad thing is we're only in Tesco and you know that's as far as it goes,
But I'm on a privilege for being here once a month,
Unknown even in my home town,
The place I began the revolution,
And what to do with myself?
I don't know if I want to carry on,
And I know Jokers cannot die,
But what about if I were not to be a Joker?
Just another failed poet in search for a meaning,
Could I start a happy ending then?

But do happy endings exist?

I know that you've directed my bottled nightmares,
And drawn the maps to my neon wonderland,
You fixed my meetings,
And drew my card,
An experiment,
Of my disregard,
I know that you've directed my bottled nightmares,
And drawn the maps to my neon wonderland,
And put the gun to my head.

But before I go I want to go with a bang,
You know me I just wouldn't be the same with out it,
So here's your own bottled nightmare.

The bang will ring in my ears,
Right from yesteryear,
With no more Joker,
Harlequin stops,
The Joker will join his Sorrow.

For happy endings do not exist.

And there you go, I hope you enjoyed =)
Gear:

Epiphone Sheraton 1962 50th Anniversary 212TV,

Ibanez TS-9 Tube Screamer,
Dunlop MXR Carbon Copy,
Vox V847 Wah-Wah,

Vox TB35C1.