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Lay

Lay

Lay

Armageddon

This beautiful tree

Boo hoo

Give up living

Ample

Eye

They give in On The Buses, up the stair

By the television

Pretend to learn

Where’s the lay of the land

My son

Where’s the lay of the land

My son

What’s the lie of the land

My son

The last Briton on the street

He’s in a radio fuzz

He’s dead and beat

No longer reflects our daft fate

We’ll leave this city

Hit a quick coach, take the town in Surrey

There’s no-one here but crooks and death

Kerb-crawlers, of the worst order

Where’s the lay of the land

My son

What’s the lie of the land

My son

Eldritch house

With green moss

Sound of ordinary on the waves

Tiles drip from its roof

Home secretary has a weird look

Where’s the lay of the land

My son

What’s the lie of the land

My son

The good Book of John

Surrounds the son

Sound of ordinary on the waves

Italic scribble on horizon

When the height of culture is a bad stew

Space bores, government disorder

Indian clerk, low-calorie drink

Where’s the lay of the land

Where children circle in cycles

Giving jokes ad lib

By bearded writers

Who defected to Higher realms

Advertising realms

Where’s the lay of the land

My son

What’s the lie of the land

My son

(People laughing. people fighting.people watching)

Between the ticker and the mind lies an air-block of wind

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