All The While

(c) Alex Baker-Graham, 2000

Boys with guitars in the automatic station, Times, are they high times?  In the hills of Donnegal, Wristbands and Rolexs and rings around the same hand, Solitary snowflakes and stars above the wall CHORUS: And all the while, There's a funny feeling, All the while, That I just might stay sane, All the while, There's a simple answer, All the while I know this world can be tamed Snaps of Conrad Johnson He's the man of the moment, While the names, places, faces run at light speed through my ears, Fences round the last long mile and fences round the tennis court, Radio collations carry record label tears. CHORUS Working with the weight of your whole world upon your shoulders, Problems in your backpack that you never knew you had, Rough alliteration of a dry dishevilled poet, Based on rough experience he hopes he'll never have. CHORUS I think about my problems as my mind flits through the window, I try to find some time to find something to realise Walking on my carpet, it's like walking in a graveyard, Secure sometimes I wonder if I know I'm still alive CHORUS

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