Anthony Cooney Visit @TnGTheBand on twitter.

The sun disappears, down the oceans throat.

Clear sky tonight, guides the fishing boat.

Lazy blue water, rises slowly and falls.

Stare and believe, in the beauty of all.

Dark rum and whiskey, down the captains throat.

Starboard and then port, unsettle the boat.

Sad shanty’s and tears, then a sirens cry.

Man over board, your captain is mine.

Throw me a life buoy, throw me a rope.

Send up a bright flare, to give me some hope.

The boat disregarded , floated out of sight.

Tell my wife I love her, on this beautiful night.

Roses in the garden. Pictures in the hall.

Floorboards creak in the bedroom.

Guess you’ve got it all.

Kitchen smells of coffee.

White electric car.

Crazy paving looks amazing

Guess you’ve got it all.

You have 45 free photographs

Just pay post and package.

Sitting there smiling patiently

To remind you of this wreckage.

More distressed than the floorboards.

Pain in the grain upon the floor.

The only things that don’t walk all over you.

In this pretty sad house of yours

Vacuuming in your vacuum.

Dressed beneath your dressing gown.

So remote with no remote control

The email says it all.

You have 45 free photographs

Just pay post and package.

Sitting there laughing at you.

To remind you of this wreckage.

Roses in the garden.

Paintings in the hall.

The radiator pipes keep knocking.

Guess you’ve got it all.

To banish your boring middle aged blues.

You bought yourself a neck tattoo.

Don’t worry what your wife will say.

Now she won’t forget your birthday.

To banish your boring middle aged blues.

You bought yourself a new tattoo.

Now every time you have sex.

He can groan your name in Sans Serif text.

Too many lifes lived in mono.

Black and white, no colour or stereo.

Hide your hearts under your sleeves.

Where dolphins swim in empty seas.

Where lions roar and anchors hold.

Faded Celtic crosses, green and gold.

Prompts a conversation, as it should.

When taking in or donating blood.

Hide away if you want to

Between Apple Earpods

On the train or the subterranean

Or floating with the gods.

Make yourself invisible

Float gently as you go

Block out the world around you

Jay Z,Florence or Costello.

Power run with tiger eye

Far from the maddening crowd

Double heartbeat repetition.

Beside the silent crowd.

Seemed like time was dragging heels.

Speed yourself and move your wheels.

Places that you need to see.

Tick the box of TV dreams.

Sail the seas.

Climb the mountain.

Throw a coin.

Into a fountain.

Places to go, people to meet.

Speed up watch you’ve time to cheat.

Frame the same old situation.

Bore the world with your vacation.

Walked a walk

Drank some wine

Stole an image

Now lost in time.

Disconnect your accelerator.

The Finish flags sooner than later.

Why would you wish that time would fly.

Brakes wont slow your journey time.

Boom town baby.

Boom and bust.

Boom town baby.

Bricks to dust.

Boom town baby.

Works are crushed.

Boom town baby.

Turned to rust.

Boom town baby

Must adjust.

Boom town baby.

Rivers flush.

Boom town baby.

Oozing puss.

Boom town baby.

Cuts and mistrust.

Boom town baby.

Turned it blue.

Boom town baby.

Now you’re screwed.

I remember you in a black pencil skirt.

Sat with the boys, you loved to flirt.

We had a drunken kiss, at the leavers summer disco.

Some other boy, wannabe rebel rouser.

Marxist T Shirt and combat trousers.

Bought you a Clash record from the newly opened Tesco.

---

An art school girl with portfolio

Londons calling and you had to go.

With dreams of, an avant-garde existence.

But the poor mouth Bohemians, held a hold.

The Victorian squats were damp and cold.

Your talent waned the same as your respiratory resistance.

---

Years later I sat alone, at a Bernie Inn.

Steak and chips and you walked in.

Came over and asked for a vodka and black.

Said that you had once met, Spandau Ballet.

Culture Club and Frankie Valli.

Started crying and asked if I would take you back.

---

But I can remember behind the 6th form college.

You dragged Che Guevara into the dark green foliage.

Fumbling with his fashionable, boxer shorts.

His baseball boots, searching for purchase.

You saw me there but couldn’t care less.

So I hope you don’t mind if I express my thoughts.

---

You broke me heart, art for heart ache.

Teenage angst and the consequences that they make.

I’m going to erase these feint grey pencil marks.

Use the brush to paint your canvas.

A surreal face of unconscious sadness.

Defying logic from your minds deepest thoughts.

---

Remember the days, we had nothing at all

Three buses to work, just to build a wall.

Covered in shit, and sand, and plaster.

Thank God for chips, tea and laughter.

Remember the days, with pockets full.

Spanish holidays, pushing for a pull.

Too much Sangria, in the sun all day.

Thank God for penicillin and suntan spray.

Remember the days when we both found love.

Married with kids and blessed from above.

Grandkids next, such a wonderful thing.

Thank the NHS and the joy they bring.

Now it seems to me you’ve lost some weight.

You are not as tall, as you once were mate.

I’m sure that you are thinking the same.

Trying hard not to lose this final game.

So remember when, we were kings of our land.

Surveying the lawns with a beer in hand.

Always there, with dubious advice.

To bring us down, from some dizzy heights.

Remembering the sadness when we felt low.

You have to let, the sorrows show.

In the waiting room, and a final journey

A one way ticket, going on without me.

So remember this, I can say it now.

I loved and respected you anyhow.

It’s time I left this sad sad room

Here’s a kiss and i’ll see you soon.

Golden syrup pours into the sewer.

Leaking through pipes , awaiting a cure.

Skim the gold, leave the treacle.

To pollute the rivers with matters faecal.

The reward of an unrewarding career.

Nod your head, take a note.

Grab the stragglers by the throat.

The tiredness of a tiresome career.

The worth of a worthless career.

Measure twice cut once.

Then repeat for 600 months.

The fear of an austere career.

Oh the thanks of a thankless career.

From canteen table to the grave.

Cut and paste your life’s a waste.

Oh the fun of a humdrum career.

Oh the want of an unwanted career.

When you lack the inclination.

You’d rather be collecting numbers.

In the local railway station.