Under Wraps


Lap Of Luxury


The money won't last forever ---
  rent man called twice today.
I hope some day you'll find me
  in the lap of luxury.

Searched for a new apartment
  but they don't grow on trees.
Just want to lay my head
  in the lap of luxury.

Stepped out on a new horizon ---
  felt a new spring in my feet.
Found a job, it could set me up
  dangling in the lap of luxury.

And the gaffer is a man of substance ---
  drives a jag and takes high tea.
Lives beyond the industrial wasteland,
  laughing in the lap of luxury.

I need money, now, to soothe my heart!

Buy me a Datsun or Toyota ---
  get the tax man to agree
  all expenses I can muster
  from the lap of luxury.

Under Wraps


Keep it quiet.  (Go slow.)
Circulate.  Need to know.
Stamp the date upon your file ---
  masquerade, but well worth while.

Wrapped in the warmth of you ---
  wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.

Wear an air --- (keep mum)
  of casual indifference.
Careful how you go
  about your usual business.

Wrapped in daydreams of you ---
  wrapped up by your eyes.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! I've got you under wraps.

Tell you when --- (not yet)
  soon the great unveiling.
Bless my boots! Upon my soul!
Secrecy, it is my failing.

Wrapped in your Summer night ---
  wrapped in your Autumn leaves.
Wrapped in the Winter of your sleeping.

European Legacy


She smiles at me
  from beyond the eastern sea-shore.
Flashing jewelled eyes,
  she hoists her skirts so high.
Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar ---
  it's really up to her.
I'll write every cheque she brings to me.
I shoot on sight ---
  it's my European legacy.

Round the castle walls ---
  about the Highlands and the Islands
  the faint reminders stand.
Visitors who took a hand
  a thousand years ago, or so ---
  stranded high and dry by tides ---
  washed up a new identity.
The channel's wide ---
  but it's their European legacy.

I strain my eyes
  against the southern light advancing.
On whiter cliffs I'm high.
The sea birds roll and tumble as they fly.
I hear distant mainland music echo
  in my island ears.
My feet begin to move instinctively
  to the warmer beat of my European legacy.

She smiles at me
  from beyond the eastern sea-shore.
Flashing jewelled eyes,
  she hoists her skirts so high.
Nouvelle cuisine or an oyster bar ---
  it's really up to her.
I'll write every cheque she brings to me.
She shoots on sight ---
  it's her European legacy.

Later, That Same Evening


Later, that same evening, she ran.
I think she ran alone.
Later, she had early warning from
  a hidden phone.
Checked with the embassy ---
  she might have been
  a million miles away.
Should I circulate her likeness
  at all airports without delay?
It was later ---
  later that same evening.

Earlier, we had had a drink or four
  in some Kensington hotel.
Hard --- it was hard to keep my mind
  on what she had to sell.
And with all business done
  we took a cab ---
  should it be her place or mine?
Good security prevailed
  and I was home just after nine.
It was later ---
  later that same evening.

Now I want you back.
Yes, they want you back.
We want you back.
My country wants you back.

Later, in the wee small hours
  there was heavy traffic on the radio.
Scare at a channel port ---
  small craft warnings to keep to shore.
Lobstermen thought they saw
  a submarine
  half submerged suspiciously.
Though I arrived too late,
  I'm sure she blew a kiss to me
  as the sub sailed out to sea.

Saboteur


In and out of shady places ---
  walking on cold corners of the maze.
Following the trace you leave unwittingly.
I wanna be no Saboteur.
Oh, no, me no Saboteur.

Painted ducks across your landscape ---
  happy in your domesticity (it don't come free).
Misfortune, like a Sparrow Hawk, hangs over you.
Wanna be no Saboteur.
No, no, me no Saboteur.

Deepest regrets I humbly offer you
  as I cut into your life.
With clean precision, all is simplified ---
  pass the hat and pass the knife.

By now you must be worried, wondering
  who is me and what lies behind my art.
I'm only removing broken sea-shells from the beach ---
  oh, no, me no Saboteur.

There's at least one of me inside your ranks
  in your factory or school.
I anticipate a cleansing opportunity
  to take the horns by the bull.

History forever writing
  pages to be cut or painted grey,
  or celebrated like Jesus in his
  temple rage
  as he chased the money-men away.

I wanna be no Saboteur.
Be no, be no Saboteur.

Radio Free Moscow


Tune into messages
  from the Eastern avenue.
Lock on to the ether ---
  squeeze the signal through and through.
War of the air-waves
  making scare-waves.
I'm getting pictures
  from my radio (Free Moscow).
Moscow Radio.

Voice of America ---
  symbol of the free.
Mine of disinformation
  pleading sympathy.
Down in the cold-war games
  forever naming names.
I'm getting pictures
  from my radio (Free Moscow).
Keep getting pictures
  from my radio (Free Moscow).

I put my headphones on ---
  reach out on the beam.
Shutter up the windows ---
  I'm getting up some steam.
Somebody's at the door
  catching me in the act ---
  they've been keeping the score.
I'm getting pictures
  from my radio (Free Moscow).
Yes, I'm getting pictures
  from my radio (Free Moscow).

Astronomy


The middle lane has trapped my car
  in red-light claustrophobia.
I slip the shackles, cut the rope ---
  stand naked with a telescope
  as the cat walks alone
  under a big sky.
Against the dark so thin and white ---
  gonna be a big sky night.

Miss Galileo, come with me
  and view the new Astronomy.
Black hole dressing on salad plate ---
  quasar at the kissing gate.
Now the cat, he walks alone
  under a big sky.
Umbrella dome pin-pricked in lights ---
  gonna be a big sky night.

My spectacles, my white lab coat ---
  my coffee, thermos and my notes.
I pat my pockets. I got the keys
  to the secrets of the observatory.
And closing the door,
  I feel a new dawn
  as the darker slides align ---
  you to yours and me to mine.

And now you stand, assisting me ---
  I can touch what I can see, see, see.
I look in wonder, I feel no shame ---
  see the consequences of the game.
Expand the universe.
Head for the Big Bang.
Reach for my switch and shout ---
  gonna turn the big sky out.

There's got to be astronomy.
Astronomy.

Tundra


Short Arctic desert day ---
  and someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Look around every which way
  but I can't see just where the footprints go.
Is it a casual disappearance? ---
  Plucked from the middle atmosphere
  like straw wind-blown.
No speck on the horizon ---
  no simple message scrawled
  upon the snow.

Unearthly visitation ---
  someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Hungry buzzard flier
  circling round and round
  rattling death's tambourine.

Have to run it down the cold wire ---
  late insertion in tomorrow's lost and found.
Should I spread out searching?
  But I'm a little thin upon the ground.

So I raise my lips to coax
  the last drop of brandy from the bottle.
Rest my feet and contemplate
  the mystery that's haunting
  this Siberian space.

Show-shoes they bind me down ---
  I'm just one more parasite of the surface layer.
I begin to get the feeling
  I've been on this stage before
  and I'm the only player.

One more Arctic desert day ---
  another set of shoes out in the tundra snow.
I make my fade to white-out
  and you can't see me where my footprints go.

Nobody's Car


Black Volga following me ---
  Nobody's car.
Mr. No-one at the wheel of
  Nobody's car.
Wet pavements, thin apartments ---
  quiet dissent from darkened doorways.
I want out alive.
Speak up for me if you can.
So, careful how you drive
  in tourist city.

Slap in front of my hotel ---
it's Nobody's car.
Is that my limousine?
No, it's Nobody's car.
Are you on routine assignment?
Plastic shades on black-browed eye-hole.
I read this book before.
I even saw the film.
How did the ending go?
 (Intourist city.)

Black out.

It's a weird scenario.
  I've seen a thousand times before
  but only on my video.

Feel my steps quick in the headlights
  of Nobody's car.
Down cobbled alley with no exit from
  Nobody's car.
Doors slam, two figures silhouette ---
  somewhere before, I feel we've met.
Can't tell you any more.
I agreed to go along with all they asked of me.
Intourist city.
I drive Nobody's car.

Heat


When the rats are running
  and the boys are gunning
  for heads on a tin plate ---
  you can hear the footfall
  softly in the back yard.
And the black jack is called
  face up on the last card.

You'd better call your witness
  in your dirty business.
Trop tard sera le cri.
Better run while you can ---
  better set the tall sail.
Better make deep cover
  before the boys have you nailed.

There's just one chance to get away ---
  I'll catch up with you another day.
I'll close my eyes and count to ten
  and come right after you again.

Grab your credit cards ---
  cash in on your resources.
Take your passport from the drawer,
  don't stop to change the horses.

Get out of the heat.

Now can you feel the pressure?
Have you got the measure
  of being a wanted man?
Cold drink in your hand ---
  hot sweat on your brow.
And there's no understanding
  going to help you now.

Grab your credit cards ---
  cash in on your resources.
Take your passport from the drawer,
  don't stop to change the horses.
Notify all parties
  of an earlier vacation.
No use trying to board the train
  after it's left the station.

Get out of the heat.

Under Wraps #2



Paparazzi


Paparazzi, can't make the man.
Paparazzi, can't break the man.

Next to the transit lounge
  see the Paparazzi tears.
No-one came in today
  from Boston or Tangiers.
And in departures ---
  only faceless trippers trip,
  loaded with duty free
  held in white knuckle grip.

Snap it up, flash away ---
  steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
  the news is running late tonight.

Be-decked with Nikon necklaces
  hear the Paparazzi cries.
Under their noses walk
  the famous in disguise.
Conspicuously huddled there
  but no-one stops to look.
They've got their crayons out
  to colour in the book.

Snap it up, flash away ---
  steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
  Paparazzi won't be home tonight.

Paparazzi --- write it down.
Paparazzi --- turn it around.
Paparazzi --- take it, fake it,
  break it.
  `Cos it's a story.
Now someone's cut the lines
  communication's down.
All photo film is fogged.
Celebrities surround
  and jab their fingers at me.
They kiss but I can't tell.
Even poor Paparazzi
  must have privacy as well.

Snap it up, flash away ---
  steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
  the news is running late tonight.

Snap it up, flash away ---
  steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type ---
  Paparazzi won't be home tonight.

Apogee


Sailing round the true-blue sphere---
  is it too late to bale out of here?
Well, there has to be some better way
  to turn back the night,
  spin on to yesterday.

The old man and his crew---
  after all these years,
  it's apogee.
Pilot training and remorse---
  spirit friends fly too,
  at apogee.
Apogee --- solar bright.
Apogee --- through the night.
Apogee --- overground.
Don't think I'll be coming down.

Screened for a stable mate
  with nerves of ice we flew,
  at apogee.
No creativity allowed
  to pass through stainless veins of steel,
  at apogee.
Apogee --- put the kettle on.
Tight-lipped --- soldier on.
High point --- communicate.
Don't forget to urinate.

So glad they put this window in.
How to explain, how to begin?
See! Tennyson and Wordsworth there
  waiting for me in the cold, thin air.

Beware a host of unearthly daffodils
  drifting golden, turned up loud.
Tell the boys back home,
  I'm gonna get some.

The Wrong Stuff's loose in here ---
  I'm climbing up the walls,
  at apogee.
So hoist the skull and bones ---
  death and glory's free,
  at apogee.

A stranger wind, a solar breeze ---