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It is  a beautiful sunny winter morning down here in NZ. Turned on the radio after listening to three  songs turned it of so I could just enjoy the quiet and nature outside my window. Picked up a pen and paper and wrote this.

Song Writer.

Why would I want to be a songwriter.

When its the sad songs that sell.

I guess I could lead the crowd.

We could all sing lets be sad together.

Lets be sad together.

On a dark night in the spotlight.

People waving lights.

Thousands singing lets be  sad together.

All in great delight.

Waving arms and dancing.

A sea of arms in the air.

Cell phone lights shining bright.

Entranced in a mantra.

Lets be sad together.

Lets be sad together.

Their spirits all hyped up.

Negative voices filling the night with delight.

Do these negative lyrics filling  my head.

Make me feel better.

Or do they make me feel worse.

Or are they a subliminal curse.

Woke up this morning listened to the radio.

Three negative songs in a row.

Lets be sad together.

Lets be sad together.

Peoples mental health not given much wealth.

A stream of sad.

Does it make them happy or is it  driving them mad.

Lets be sad together.

Lets be sad together.

Why would I want  to be a song writer.

If its sad thoughts that keep me up all night.

Maree and I use to help out at a Salvation Army drug and alcohol rehab centre. One man I  got to know who was  in the rehab told me one day about his twenty six year old son tracking him down in a dodgy pub he frequented. Years later I met his son who also told me about that meeting. This is me writing about it from how I heard both their stories  of the event. I decided to write it as though I’m the father.

Thrown Of Line.

Sitting at a bar on the wrong side of the city.
Feeling like a flea bitten dog. 
My head full of smog.
Scratching at something that tickled.
After all these years a muddy still pond has rippled.
In amongst the stench of stale beer.
This young man walks in here.
Twenty years on he runs into me.
No hatred no sympathy.
Young man beer in hand.
Of all the places in this land
Beer and here.
Last time together.
He was just six.
My mud sticks.
My bad tricks.
About to haunt me.
With no challenge.
Just a shake of the hand.
He looks me in the eye.
Unaware I’m high.
Yet in that moment I knew I was living a lie.
Time to tell the truth.
Once before I die.
I know your my old man.
He  says to me with outreached hand.
With no where to hide.
I let him sit by my side.

Reflections of my time a train track.
With carriages thrown of line.
It should be just me doing the time.
It should be just me doing the time.

I want my head to be clear like a mountain stream.
Cocaine driving me insane.
Booze the empty glass.
Head hanging at half mast.
Cigarettes killing my throat.
Around me a swirling moat.
More dirt than water to keep me afloat.
The hunt for applause no longer important.

Reflecting back on my time.
With carriages thrown of line.
It should be just me doing the time.
It should be just me doing the time.

Son  love your mother.
She protected you from me.
She gave you certainty.
She gave you her soul.
I never fulfilled my roll.
It must have taken its toll.
It is true .
Its nothing new
Why have respect for me.
Last time I saw you .
You were six and your brother was three.
Your baby sister as pretty can be.

Carriages thrown of line.
It should be just me doing the time.
It should be just me doing the time.

I drank from the devils well.
Made your mothers life hell.
Go out and live your life well.
Kid you don't have to respect me.

Carriages thrown of line.
It should be just me doing the time.
It should be just me doing the time.

Shake my hand  son I'm nearly done.
I'm still on the run.
My life is a mess.
Say goodbye and wish me God Bless.

Carriages thrown of line.
It should be just me doing the time.
It should be just me doing the time.