You Take Me Outta Myself

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

YOU TAKE ME OUTTA MYSELF
©Trev Teasdel – Coventry 1978

If I pick up my pen when I feel the need
You know over paper, my feelings will bleed
Arranging my pain in patterns on paper
Releasing the pressure that burns like a taper.

Chorus
You take me outta myself
You improve my health
And just for that while
You surprise my lips with a smile
Just for a little while
You take me outta myself
You take me, take me outta myself
You take me, take me outta myself.

You help me with your words and ear
You ease my fear,
with loving eyes you dry all my tears,
feeling the cool and the calm of someone near
I need you here – Oh I need you here.

Chorus…

My laughter was locked up in a safe
You found the combination instantly
You’re not the kind to take the world by storm
You give your talents like a creeping dawn.

You Take me Out Of Myself by Trev Teasdel

You Take Me Out of Myself as audio on Soundclick

https://soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=14606149

Boarding School Blues

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

BOARDING SCHOOL BLUES – Part 1

LEAVING HOME

©Trev Teasdel Coventry April1971

A case goes in the back

A bag goes on the rack

We go in the coach and down the wayward track.

We are 12 and never left home, off to make it on our own.

The coach draws off along the drive

Our parents weep n wave and strive to see their darlings off.

Leaving home for the first time
To get those boarding school blues
Leaving home in term time
To break the old school rules!

Fun ‘n’ games and chat, handkerchiefs and looking back

Finger spotting, whistling at the girls as the journey’s scenery unfurls.

And suddenly it’s endless fields and looking back..

Regretting this, regretting that, wishing your were on the homeward track.
The homesick blues, you’re feeling bad. Could have been kinder to mum and dad!

To Chorus..

Conversation runs rings around your head,
You’re feeling down, wish your were dead
As you gaze upon an endless void ahead

Weary of the past, fearful of the future

Life’s a mysterious tutor
You catch a joke, maybe you snigger

but the hurt inside just gets bigger.

Chorus.

We’re Going Home

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

WE’RE GOING HOME
Boarding School Blues (Part 2)

©Trev Teasdel Coventry April 1971

Chorus
One more day in this old place
There’s one more day and we’re going home.
Going home after far too long
We’re going home – it’s been so long.

In the prep room there is chaos,
Even the Masters celebrate.
Fun fights in the dormitories,
Nobody can wait.
It’s all midnight packing and bed-ransacking
Pillow fights and bright torchlights.
Everybody’s getting ready,
Everybody knows
We’re going home.

At last the time has come,
No one will sleep tonight.
Lights out – half past ten
No one gives a damn!
Midnight raids on the staff room,
Biscuits topped with jam.
It’s all been school meals and lessons,

slippers, canes, assembly
But tomorrow – we’re going home,

Tossing our caps in the Severn,

as the coach rolls over the bridge.
Seagulls come to greet them

and fly off over the ridge.
It’s all ‘when I get home, I’m gonna do this, do that‘

And ” phew! I’m glad that’s over”
Nothing seems to matter

when you’re on the homeward track.

Look out Coventry city – the boys are back in town
The girls are looking pretty, we’ll soon be hanging round.
It’s been facts n figures and classroom triggers
but now we’re coming home.

I’ll Sing You Song

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

I’LL SING YOU A SONG

©Trev Teasdel Aug 1970 Coventry – revised 1986 Middlesbrough.

I’ll sing you a song and I’ll sing it so slow that you’ll cry.

I’ll sing you a ditty about the fast city and about all the times that I cried.

I’ll sing you a ditty about the fast city, in whom can a soul confide?

I’ll sing you a song and I’ll sing it so fast that you’ll laugh.

It may seem outrageous but if your laughter’s contagious

You’ll be seeing a smile on my face.

It mighten last ages but if your laughter’s contagious

They’ll be a smile on my face.

My outlook is black, my head wears a sack

And it’s you, yes its you that I want.

My outlook is white and my hair looks a sight

And its you, yes its you that I want.

I’m writing this letter, it’s got to be better

Than just doing nothing at all.

I’m sending this letter, cos it’s got to be better

Than sitting here facing the wall.

I’ll sing you a song cos everything’s wrong

And I someone I long to belong to someone.

I’ll sing you a song and I hope you’re not long

Before your heart sings along.

I’m singing this song cos it makes me feel better

I hope that it won’t bring you down.

I’m singing this song cos I’ll feel a lot better

Just to know that I have her around.

Nothing makes sense, so what use is defence

When you’re sitting there stripped to the heart.

Nothing makes sense, when the feeling’s immense

And emptiness fills up your heart.

Where have All My Friends Gone

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

WHERE HAVE ALL MY FRIENDS GONE?

©Trev Teasdel Coventry December 1968

The soft sludgy snow’s on the ground all around

And gloomy thoughts come to mind.

I’m in solitude I find.

I’m in the land where the sun has never shone.

Won’t you tell me – Where have all my friends gone?

Month after month, year after year,

I am a man of constant fear.

So I’ve turned to drink and I don’t have to think

About the world and all the sadness it presents.

I’m in a land where the sun has never shone

Won’t you tell me –Where have all my friends gone?

Back in my youth

I was so fancy free and brave

Enjoyed myself

Enjoyed my health.

Once I was married, for several years

We lived through the laughter and the tears.

Now we’re apart, I’m beginning to start

To wish I hadn’t been, so cruel and mean.

I’m in a land where the sun has never shone

Won’t you tell me, Where have all my friends gone?

Should I always have to hide

Should I commit suicide

T’would do no good so they say.

But would they care if I did one day?

A life of desperation

I’m in a land where the sun has never shone,

Won’t you tell me, Where have all my friends gone?

The Precinct of St. Mary’s

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

THE PRECINCT OF ST MARY’S
(The Modern Traffic Free Shopping Centre)
©Trev Teasdel Coventry Feb 1969

On a windy Saturday Afternoon
They sky isn’t grey but it’s getting that way.
Housewives are rushing by,
They all have groceries to buy.
The shops all display their full range of goods
from Dairy butter to raincoat hoods
Marmalade to Appleade
Pints of milk to wool and silk
Magazine and windowlean
Budgie seed – in fact all you need.

Chorus
In the Precinct of Mary’s
In the Precinct of Mary’s
The Modern traffic free shopping centre.

There’s a barber in the end row, you know
A recommended place to go.
An adjacent hardware store is far superior
To their central branch.
Signs that con you and cast spells upon you
Appealing to emotions
In aid of commercial promotions.
Pricy sales and pan scales
Mind arresting windows,
People treading on your toes.
Passing through anxious crowds
Minds full of household clouds.
Emptying purses and worried curses.

Neon displays always pays,
In the midst of a commercial haze.
Over-burdened shopping bags,
Eye straining price tags.

St. Mary’s bells are ringing
Children run around singing.

To chorus.

Time Wheel Winder

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

TIME WHEEL WINDER

©Trev Teasdel June 1971 Vicarage Rd – Birmingham.

The sun’s going down in the sky.

I didn’t notice time go by.

Time Wheel Winder why

Do you wind so fastly?

Here am I with a worn out wasted day,

That I’ve only just begun.

Words with the sun fled softly now.

I wander aimlessly in uncertainty’s fortress mighty.

Tell me where I might be now.

I’m in the midst of a jungle,

And I cannot tell what surrounds me now.

So if you know my bearings,

Don’t hesitate to tell me now.

I know my way, but it’s not clear

Cut corner curiosity.

Ball and chained to my cell-hell.

This may seem simple

But it suits the mood..

Light, thoughtless and spontaneous.

Time for Another Day

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

TIME FOR ANOTHER DAY

©Trev Teasdel November 1970 Coventry

The stage is bare, the curtains drawn,

The lights are out, it’s nearly dawn.

As the curtains sidle away,

The sun leaps on the stage,

Cos it’s time for another day.

Time for another day.

Like every other, it’ll have its share,

Of strife and death and bloody warfare.

Fate will wake you with a start,

And lead you through its uncertain maze,

That seems like scenes from TV plays,

When its time for another day.

You read the papers that’ll make you sad,

As you realise that all the news is bad.

As you wade through the sex and violence that assaults your eyes

You may wish to question why,

The world has the right to another day.

Nothing for Certain

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

NOTHING FOR CERTAIN

Nothing for certain, nothing for sure

Nothing for granted, nothing stable or secure

Sinking sands..subsiding lands

Nothing fixed, nothing forever

Nothing free of charge, nothing stood still (nothing for free that changes never)

Nothing for certain

Motion motion..waves of oceans

Nothing anchored in a still born sea

Nothing you can always touch and see

Nothing at all

Constant movement all around

Fixing your sights on a floating ideal

Go for a ride on its moving wheel

Fix your step on the ladder of change

And fix your step on nothing at all

Changes changes all is changes. (Hearts that float on the lonely sea)

Mr Opulent V Mary Annabella

Posted on 5 October 2016 by trevor

Mr OPULENT V MARY ANNABELLA

Mary Annabelle wears a face she does not own

And her teeth are in a jar on the table in her home

She walks the dog around the street

Hoping she might meet – Mr Perfect and his family called ‘Elite’

All mod cons are incorporated in the kitchen that she admires

And in the living room are several two-bar fires

An oriental tapestry conceals some tattered walls

And photographs of Fred Astair and Englebert are suspended in the halls.

She contemplates her Mr Opulent, a car manufacturer’s Director

Who used to be married to Mary Annabella

A Betterware salesman knocks upon the wooden door

And nervously departed when she phoned for the law.

Mr O’s in the boozer playing his life away at poker

Everybody knows that he’s a proverbial loser

Mary she invites all her would-be-courting-knights

To a round table meeting full of feasting and eating.

(Drink up your merry wine, if you drive you’ll get a fine)

Bridge

It makes one wonder who are the primates of the earth

Money, cars or humans, funny but there you are!

Gazing in the window of a cosmetic shop

What will she do if she becomes a flop

Mr O’s unprolific life, is supported by an unwanted skeleton of strife.

His adulterous misdoings led to legal suings

Now he’s looking for the promised land with a vapid compass in his hand.

Just like a bacterised loaf of bread

A sour milk container for his so called head.

Three pining children he left behind

Their distress is underlined

With an alcoholic father

And a prostituted mother

Look out kids – you better take cover.