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of flash, thud, shudder,
then the wailing...
that's half a young cat's life
He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.
Say, Good mornin, Granny MaamaGood mornin, Grandpa Taata.Good mornin when it rainin.Good mornin when sun shinin.Good mornin.
Bring on your shining armour, dude.I'll be your damsel in distress with attitude.
Now we're up on the edge
and over, on the mountain
with mountains beyond. Behind us,
in the dark
of the valley, villages are embers
His name is called and there's a pause
just long enough to halt a war
tame timber wolves and trim their claws
hide diamonds in a secret drawer
Tippi can't stand clowns.Dragon is terrified of cockroachesand Mom of mice.Dad pretends to be fearless,though I've seen him flinch when the mail arrives
The walls of the room are white and clean -all sign's of yesterdays sorrows scrubbedaway with bleach.
We're floating into the blue,Me and my blue balloon.Over the rooftops of the town,The brown fields and the treesAnd the Downs – we're floating,
I’m the king of the dinosaurs, number one reptile,tyrannosaurus rex can’t touch my style.I’m dressed to kill, got the sharpest suit,
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