The Wrong Turn

We took a wrong turn At The Old Bardstown MillThe sign said go rightAt the top of the hillAs it turns outThe right turn was wrongHence why I’m singingThis intriguing new songSome disgruntled gentChanged the old road sign He pointed the arrowWay out of lineHe made it point rightWhen it should have been leftWhich left us to wonderWhere to go nextWe had to back…

At Home With The Boltons

It was hard to imagine such a peaceful place in one of the worlds largest cities. I loved living in London – SW-10. This song is about this picture – and the feeling I had there – for the short time I lived there in the late 80’s. No lyrics – just an instrumental – because the picture speaks louder than words.

Old Number 22

Old Number 22 on the tracksIn a railroad museumWooden seats bright trolley wheelsRode the cities rails of steelBack and forth on the citys wharfFog horns forlorn moanMisty silver blue night airFriendly car taking me homeChorusBright orange carsBlack fancy trimBig front lightsFor the foggy nights

Hollywood Road

A special placeI’ll never forget Hollywood RoadOld Brompton TownA mellow placeA special placePeaceful, aliveA place to singThe Little Bolton’sAn old stone churchBlocks of flatsI set my searchI prowled the streets Nothing was plannedDecisive momentsWith camera in handHyde ParkGreen ParkWalk to SOHOEvery dayBack streets Very quietA place to thinkAbout life


Every song I writeIs a photographTelling a taleAbout wheat or chaffThe wheat might beA sunny dayThe chaff might beSkies of grayImages, emotionsFeelings that I’ve hadMost were goodSome were sadMy inner eyeA cameraHas an earFor ephemeraEverything is ephemeraNothing lasts foreverThat’s why I tryTo never say neverMy inner eye A cameraHas an earFor ephemera

Frank Lloyd Wrong

He built his houseWithout a careTrailer trashJunk everywherePlied with wineAnd plied with woodSome chicken wireHe’s Feelin’ goodHis Mommy’s moneyWhy should he careIf he gives his neighborsA depressing scareThen his roof leakedA spark in a wireHis dried out fieldJust caught on fire

Richard Tater

I know a man whoseMade out of woodThe women adored himBecause he’s that goodIt might be the gapBetween his two teethIt might be the woodThat he has underneathThis is the storyOf old Richard TaterIntellectual loverInternational playerHe stole from the richAnd gave to the poorHe fancied the ladiesWhom he gave so much moreA real ladies manWho knew how they feelAn emotional healerToo good to be…

All Knowing

The more I age The more I growExperience trumpsWhat I knowWhen I was youngI knew it allFalse confidenceI had a ballBut now I knowWhat I don’tIt humbles meIt’s changed my toneBecoming sageIs knowing thatYou don’t know nuthinA natural factChorusI’ve had funAt every ageA learning playThe world’s a stage

The Seance for Professor Drake

The ProfessorKnowledge ingesterBuried in booksLibrary nooksSo much knowledgeTaught at collegeHis secret dreamWas the silver screenHe loved dramaFollowed that karma Never to beSad broken dreamBack in his classThe news was sadHis body was foundIn the river, he drownedChorusBuried in dreamsThe skeleton keyUnlocked his heartTo the silver screen

The Good Life

The road aheadIs what you willEither brightness filledOr dark and nilThe secret trickWorry just a tadWorrying too muchWill drive you madNo one owes youNo one caresReach out to othersDon’t be scaredWhen you careAbout all othersThey’ll care back likeSisters and brothersIt’s up to you toKill em with kindnessNegative peopleAre always spinelessDon’t go walkingInto their trapSing past their woeAnd ignore their crap