The time has come
Your call you’ve beckoned
Flights booked You won
Family ties at rest and peace
New beginnings new country
New friends new lease
From a sheltered world With blinkers on
When the plane lands
Old reunions and bonds
Will once again pick up as before
The connection made
Back in 2004
Ghost words of the imaginings 
he cannot fathom
he is me too
not i he
but he me
pope son tom
likes gop liars
and weasels
your move
find the groove
five more got the ax
or sacked
ha ha ha
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When talking in riddles
It’s hard to read
There’s no sense
Just trying to lead
To nonsense and confusion
A lot of white noise
Where you play with feelings
They’re all your toys
Get into the groove
You say quite bemused
The words won’t flow
Where is your muse
Maybe a block
Has appeared rightfully so
Maybe the block caused
By someone you know
Add all the numbers
From 1 to 9
She has many accounts
With herself she hi fives
‘‘Twas funny at first
But now just plain stooped
There’s nothing real about
Being looped
So now I’m back
From the sand and the sea
Back to hard work
Where the money is not free
So my words I will keep
To myself as not swayed
Have given ideas
And compliments
On the way
I do believe in Love
Love from one who is close
For only this Love
Would son Tom Expose
The artist within
Stop relying on others
The artist within
Was always there blimey buggers
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yeah he s too close to have any true sense of whom i am. that s your advantage. online familiar a new cliche. ole!
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