The Lost Pages

Welcome to the machine, a new machine, the gunner's dream!

Get your filthy hands off my desert and Alan’s psychedelic breakfast, Lucifer Sam. When you're in the Fletcher Memorial Home, run like hell and set the controls for the heart of the sun. Stop the hero's return.

Sisyphus! Take up thy stethoscope and walk up the Khyber, waving my arms in the air. The post war dream echoes, causing brain damage and more blues. Wish you were here, Corporal Clegg in summer '68.

Don't leave me now Matilda mother, stay. The show must go on. Not now John, see Emily play dominoes and one of the few signs of life in the flesh. Any color you like! If it is obvious green is the color, speak to me. Bring the boys back home, mother. Hey you, have a cigar.

The paranoid eyes outside the wall wined and dined, waiting for the worms. Effervescing elephants and rats remember a day when your possible pasts were in the narrow way. Two suns in the sunset and a pillow of winds fill the empty spaces. Fearless, flaming dogs are on the run, obscured by clouds, on the turning away. The trial of the gnome in Grant Chester meadows was on the thin ice. One of These Days, us and them, comfortably numb, would start learning to fly.

Is There Anybody Out There? Nobody home?

Goodbye Blue Sky! Goodbye Cruel World!