this is no garden

 you do not count the traps that have been set
so many fall and never again rise
those who don't fail cannot ever forget

enough to see the fish in the big net
before the sun has cleaned out all the skies
you do not count the traps that have been set

this was the shadow of an evil debt
and not the fallout of a kind surprise
those who don't fail cannot ever forget

so much unknown and we've not started yet
that beyond all's not subject to surmise
you do not count the traps that have been set

those moments come when you might still regret
the manner in which you came to despise
those who don't fail cannot ever forget

alone of those who do not have to fret
we watch to see the keepers and the spies
you do not count the traps that have been set
those who don't fail cannot ever forget

dark atlantis

 this is the place where stories come to fail
you see the monster light beneath the sun
there is a shark for every single sail

the older kingdom fell once to the pale
who knew the magic of the sword and gun
this is the place where stories come to fail

another portrait hung on the old nail
the same old play performed for the same run
there is a shark for every single sail

each liar turns a zephyr to a gale
the message will be old before we're done
this is the place where stories come to fail

a dark atlantis on a smaller scale
some sort of prize that others might have won
there is a shark for every single sail

the winner always seems to be the snail
and not the child that just seeks to have fun
this is the place where stories come to fail
there is a shark for every single sail

explaining action's not all

 

you let each creature measure out a span
and every foot of distance means some hope
the watchers keep a firm gaze down the slope
but things won't matter when they're in the pan
your mind will labour under heavy ban
and body need the ministry of soap
before the process reaches proper scope
but that's been all accounted in the plan
you drew the map and let each one decide
just how the journey would begin and end
as long as you controlled the realm between
the purpose of the travel's just the ride
however much we might mock or pretend
not one of us can hide just what we mean

barbarism and religion

no one remains beside the broken door
the palace gutted and the kingdom smashed
we enter now the age of spiv and whore

you wonder who could have given much more
when at the gate the last small army clashed
no one remains beside the broken door

the price of paradise is paid in gore
and through the river many feet have splashed
we enter now the age of spiv and whore

not one is left the magic to adore
and every value long ago was trashed
no one remains beside the broken door

a shadow of the past adorns the floor
where once the greatest would have been abashed
we enter now the age of spiv and whore

there is none left to gaze upon the shore
where the last hope has only now been dashed
no one remains beside the broken door
we enter now the age of spiv and whore

in memory of aimé césaire

 the story's told in brief an old man's dead
the poet's silent now whose word once made clear
all that we needed the damp antillean air
lost for a while its ancient weight of dread
and all of africa spoke through that head
so many logics he could make appear
in one return that banishment of fear
was the least part of what the morning said
to make the exile into native land
and change the margin into metropole
these are not easy tricks for any man
and yet these words could flow out of his hand
a complex charm to turn us all creole
there's nothing better since the world began