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SunShine's Songs Opus 5

Times, Peoples & Places
(View, Upducks & Trances)

SunShine's Songs Opus 5 numbers 1 - 12: Times, Peoples & Places

SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 1 : Spiritus Indigo
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 2 : The Bowler Hat
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 3 : The Blindpassengered Mice
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 4 : The Highwaymen
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 5 : Festival Market
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 6 : The Automobile
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 7 : Vancouver Hoover
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 8 : Zar Peter
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 9 : Dreams
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 10: Poly Q
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 11: The Woodmen
SunShine's Songs Opus 5 number 12: The Phoenix and the Turtle

Spirituous Indigo

DEMO

Went into a town full of whiskey and bars.
I said, `Hi folks! I will take you in jars!'
I took them down there, and I waited with the stare,
I locked it topically and pin-puffed of the blare.
:I'm never, no never coming.
I'm never, no never coming.

Went into a town full of whiskey and folk.
I said, `Hi folks! I will take you in Coke!'
I walled up properly and pissed to grace easy,
Saw a bum-mask hat-in-hand hand out a lonely alphabet
Saw the tick-tick-tick tickle-lickers taught their fleeing all by heart
:I'm never, no never coming.
I'm never, no never coming.

Went into a town full of whiskey and boys.
I said, `Hi boys! I will take to the hop!'
I took them down there to their bowery cup.
I waited will-ware, while the winding wound for top.
I scared it seal-seeing and snarled its hurry-heel:
:I'm never, no never coming.
I'm never, no never coming.

Went into a town full of whiskey and girls.
I said, `Hi girls! I will take to the thorn,
For oysters make pearls like dew-drops point dawn.'
I took them down there and I waited with the stare,
I gave them their hair and the knelt no more for square.

The Bowler Hat

DEMO

Taking my eyes through the strangulated mass,
I see compromises leaving evening-glow so flat,
Postulators, Knowers, their eyes sadly showing:
- show us! - There were I, but surely sure
Now they're going; gone down in the light.

Somewhere in Moscow some thinker draws his breath,
The echo does it quack-toll on someone from before
Who sought his ages in a rest
On a child's hand growing up in Breests.

Entering Royal Yacht down in Harbour Gay,
The perfumes and the tastes that tangle in time's rooms,
And still the sod-spot: `Tell us', tells someone to be sought.

But even that sound slowly fades its say,
Whilst here between the seconds
The assembly locks away.

Singing that alphabet conserved in jar-pot flames.
The plasters cast their asters, adding figures to that say; -
And stretching in the back-room, bewitchening the black-broom
The saying I was grumbling, turns out mumbling:

`The three little nightingales got a sack for lack
Of grandeurs first-price wool-bales.'

Who was I to lock you on a feeling from my back?
Years turn down their line and the mysteries of time,
Behold their patternry dance:
the looking, the occasion and the glance.

Daily patterns, time-call, the forefront wakes on gay,
Minds of coloured patterns from here on to L.A.
And Hermes points a finger for a wake in Brighton Bay.

The Blind-passagering Mice

DEMO

The eyes of the sheep would blink
As the I would sleep,
The good and the believing
Were all soon receiving,
Man, it really was quite a job
To quite down the praising flock,
So God could sleep,
Counting quiet sheep.

The wolves were nearly out dead
We had to guard their growing,
And have the badder ones assured
That without them the good would feel bit lured,
And so the flock of sheep do need,
A thrill to upkeep peacly hill.

And as the carnivorous animals turned to grass
at start they had this malice arse -
The painful growl got so upright,
That the Zionistic mounters
Nearly fell down on the counters
That keep of the surounders
From Paradise,
A fact known to he who's wise.

But see last week we had a leek
On some of these here counters
Around our Paradise,
Course fourteen mice got up from under,
The first real blunder, for Peter down the gate; -
And we first knew their coming
When Satan on the running,
Reeling with his chains and all, screamed,
'The mice ate all the rice down Judgement Hall' ,
And God took on his slippers
The guards got their equippers
And soon we had this hunt round Heaven,
I tell you Michael got the seven.
The rest of mice we never found
But God screamed, `They're for Hot-Hell bound!'
And Satan looked up from his dish
As if he had another wish.

Spoke Satan, `God Thou Almighty,
Then do also give me cats,
`Course  we got more than enough of rats
To have our Hot-Hell creeping,
So that the folks down there go leaping.
But if you send me these mice
Who blind-passengered Paradise,
They'll be so holy they'll spoilt the lot
And with the rats they'll make a plot,
Dear God, an invasion on Heaven I would foresee,
So this my plea you must agree:

Go let the last mice live here in Heaven,
After all Michael got the seven,
Otherwise they will be back
With all the creeps of Hell to nack!'

The morale is
That if by chance you get to Heaven
And if you must in Heaven hide
You better stay outside
Otherwise your Heaven will be a hell of a ride.

The Highwaymen

DEMO

Where did the highwaymen sleep?
A sound was still unseen.
Did they fall for butterflies,
Or doubled up their dreams
Of mystificated nowadays
Bottled, brew, cooperated, inside the wash-board?

Where did the highwaymen wake
Did electricity their hung-ups take?
Did the fellow folks of low
Make them bow or just forget?
Or kept the boss them still let up,
To the acting lively in the will of the screenplay?

Where do the highwaymen ache
When they find themselves alone?
Wonders will they ever find
An ability of moving mind?
When we go under for to let the birdies wonder,
I get they bind a clinging to the heights
Then barrenly apparent left.

Where do the highwaymen sigh
When their mount of keeping up,
Shows shock of re-gregation
To the reaping of the all-round move?
The satisfying dying that the law is keeping,
Made the highwaymen the extra-offer of aware
As the rest-row did stare!

Where do the highwaymen praise
In the fatamorganic haze?
I guess they got a place to sit
For to bid the operators few
A joyous, `Hi goodnight have you got a show?
My walls are all now my mind's gaze and glow.'

Where do the semi-highwaymen die,
When the come to blast their eye?
I guess it's on that pulsing trail
Made a jail by former days out-cast;
Like a matter, like an order to get going,
Like a note-block they chatter,
My, why are they born out of the blowing?

Festival Market

DEMO

Come and run the rush is for the Market Square
Some will do the dance while some prefer to stare
But every young and oldster, now, they ought to be there.
:First in two rows
Then with three bows
Then shout four hoes
Before next round goes.

Susan's tripping graceful in her summer shoes,
Peter's running round as if he always loose:
Susan, Peter come and drink your loving juice.
::And I love you so - and you know I know.

Looks as if the fountain-spangles rainbows hold
Young girls' breasts a-flowing, ought to touch `em bold,
Hear the high heels clicking as the music told.
:First in two rows
Then with three bows
Then shout four hoes
Before next round goes.

We'll be clapping as the clapping climax's due,
Some sillies clapping hastily in the meanwhile too,
Seems we'll all be singing if the song ain't new.
:First in two rows
Then with three bows
Then shout four hoes
Before next round goes.

Brewer-bottles, boys collecting penny-holes,
Kinder-garden babies lick their little toes;
Did you hear the ones who shouted five, seven hoes?
:First in two rows
Then with three bows
Then shout four hoes
Before next round goes.

Hear the hashish-smoking hippies, `Hari Om',
If the skies were cloudy we would all go home,
And the market-mongers would well elsewhere roam.
:First in two rows
Then with three bows
Then shout four hoes
Before next round goes.

The Automobile

DEMO

:The Automobile is an un-in-habitual man,
He keeps his knowledge hid in a gasoline tank.

The Automobile honked his way downtown,
The chauffeur sight-keeper nearly slept round down.
:The Automobile is an un-in-habitual man,
He keeps his knowledge hid in a gasoline tank.

The Automobile had ten fingers all,
He string-pulled every thread and heaped the rubbish tall.
:The Automobile is an un-in-habitual man,
He keeps his knowledge hid in a gasoline tank.

The Automobile swung the stiff strict-caught child,
Invented siren-organs made the pilot grow wild.
:The Automobile is an un-in-habitual man,
He keeps his knowledge hid in a gasoline tank.

The Automobile Project Protect Human Skull
The x-rayed Venus gas-tank made him never turn dull.
:The Automobile is an un-in-habitual man,
He keeps his knowledge hid in a gasoline tank.

The Automobile licked the oceans in a drop,
No stupid stare-fish ever made him stop.
:The Automobile is an un-in-habitual man,
He keeps his knowledge hid in a gasoline tank.

The Automobile laid the wrist-watch to toll,
He cooked Father Time into a sandwich-roll.
:The Automobile is an un-in-habitual man,
He keeps his knowledge hid in a gasoline tank.

The Automobile made the lights like to shine,
Flowered every juke-box with the sunshine rime.

Vancouver Hoover

DEMO

Vancouver Hoover hist the seize of the sound-box,
Eyelid lay low, light a side-dreaming by-vox,
Baby like soft in the school-girly spare time,
Nice warming sock sat in robot at high time:
    - And is a way to be with the dawning!

Slowly the light-hearted distances turning,
Roof-runners rime it's a way to be earning,
Outside the day will freeze free, call it patterns,
Inside the rite, other side's harvest-feast sing:
Feet board surfers sat silent, I's so ceasing.
    - Maybe will bring along friendly afternoon!

Dinner at back-patty boy-girlish playground,
Pleads like the light, we'll come down for your lack-pack.
I's'll come crawling feel the sun-tanning new day.
No one predict it: you don't need a new way:
    - Your light does shine on down through your centuries.

Zar

DEMO

Zar, Zar, Zar
Pa, Pa, Pa-Pa, Papa.
What're you doing to the people?

You raise us so high
Russia never really touched the sky
We always knew it was so
That the Zar came from heaven to below.
But Thy Zap Peter, you make it so real,
Peter, Peter, Peter please say what's the deal?
You seem like a plague and a blessing all in one
Peter, please whole old Russia's on the run.
`O tell me, is it really real,
Does both my position and my spirit make them scream: `You'.'

Old Russia is dying, do you think that is good?
The foreigners do rule us, all your laws do threaten
Are yet more men to die?
And Thy Zar Peter, you make it so real,
Peter, Peter, Peter please say what's the deal?
You change all our clothes, our traditions are a ruin,
You fool all the wise men, only foreigners can bloom.
`How could I tell them, Gordon, Lefort, Juuel sensed in real?
How could I break the seal to living now?'

We hear that on your parties every man in vodka drown.
you'd rather have the dwarfs than honest men as friends
O tell Zar Peter, is that really real?
Peter, Peter, Peter please say what's the deal?
Our church-bells turned to cannons; you build a town by men to die,
Yes sure you are an eagle, but do you have to fly?
`How could I tell them `bout the magic we went through?
How could I show them the sky is more than God and blue?

Your wife you turned a nun and off to Europe on you went,
From everywhere a scandal back to Moscow you sent.
Say Zar Peter, is that really real?
Peter, Peter, Peter please tell what's the deal?
You killed your only son, and your new wife is a Swede,
The Russian people wakes up but do we have to bleed?
`How could I tell them wars were still yet to come?
Why should I live slow with the fleers on the run?'

::Zar, Zar, Zar
Pa pa, Pa-Pa, Papa
What you did to the people!

Dreams

DEMO

In the dreams that
Dazzling midsummer laid,
The Stream `Continuous'
Nailed the night
Unbroken aid.

The coloured gowns
Dream-weavers dress-men of safe,
Secure illusionary kneelers of disgrace.
:But may your dreams be golden,
May they flame in red.
And may their figures play well,
May the land swoll swell.

When dream-inhaling eyes
Damp on, dreams fade away,
We feel all naked now
As the real-room make its way.

And so the neck-tie flash-room
Binds you slow time vague
Whilst you yourself file numbered wakes
When worker's makes.

So dream do mend your living
Life in every day,
While we few gipsy-timers
Pat your low time grey.

::For those who see bit purer
Your psychics strangles dwarfish strange,
But as you seem to care not,
We shall not blame
when you go lame.

Poly Q

DEMO

The Boss came down in his flash-fast car,
Smiling lightly like a bright new star.
We ovators were an all line up
The clapping seemed to never stop.
:Mighty Micro Might Poly Q
Come and make me always due.
Mighty Macro, Mighty Poly Q
We'll be all round adds for you,
::Coming round to make you one!

When the foreman left the platform-mikes
The thunder roared like Harley-bikes.
We were all a gaze to what would come,
As the Boss began his, `Ahhahum'.
:Mighty Micro Might Poly Q
Come and make me always due.
Mighty Macro, Mighty Poly Q
We'll be all round adds for you,
::Coming round to make you two!

Said the Boss, `We're all in good times, now!
Now is how we earn our dime,
And our dimes are surely mounting up,
Goes on like this, we'll reach the top!'
:Mighty Micro Might Poly Q
Come and make me always due.
Mighty Macro, Mighty Poly Q
We'll be all round adds for you,
::Coming round to make you three!

`We could go on now feeling ready-made,
But time would raise its scaffold-blade,
So men do see that you are always on
The at whole we'll raise the sum!'
:Mighty Micro Might Poly Q
Come and make me always due.
Mighty Macro, Mighty Poly Q
We'll be all round adds for you,
::Coming round to make you four!

And if we got it surely right
The face-form products soon will be a boom,
`Course everywhere from Stockholm down to Main
Working men are joining the refrain.
:Mighty Micro Might Poly Q
Come and make me always due.
Mighty Macro, Mighty Poly Q
We'll be all round adds for you,
::Coming round to make you five!

And as the foreman got again the mike,
To tell of some historical strike,
We all thought how could a boss well be,
To rather flee, than hear the workers' plea.
:Mighty Micro Might Poly Q
Come and make me always due.
Mighty Macro, Mighty Poly Q
We'll be all round adds for you,
::Coming round to make you six!

And as we started home that day,
Early on in spring time May,
Many `mongst us felt the glad,
That through all time do heal the sad.
:Mighty Micro Might Poly Q
Come and make me always due.
Mighty Macro, Mighty Poly Q
We'll be all round adds for you,
::Coming round to make you seven!

The Woodmen

DEMO

Ten miles in the distance
You can hear the woodmen work:
Block - block - block.

Wispy wind whisper, top-trees'
Chorus backed by birds:
Kvirt - kvirt - kvirt.

Smoke-aired bungalows a-humming
belling dogs runny ran:
Arf - arf - arf.

:Da da da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da

Pausy noon with coffee
Voices mingle in my ears:
Plap - plap - plap.

On a further lake
I'm lightly filled with grand sincere:
Pow - ah - pow-

Going back to work
The woodmen's week's a whining wheel:
Round - round - round.

Wood is very strange, ring years
And shoulder up your load:
And so you come back!
And so you came back!

Saw the woodmen working on a road
Whose name was grow.
Grow through time.
Grow from here to here.

Everyone is gone
I see their gallows in the heart.
They never begin.
They never start.

The Phænix and the Turtle

DEMO

Words by William Shakespeare

Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.

But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.

From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather'd king:
Keep the obsequy so strict.

Let the priest in surplice white
That defunctive music can
Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.

And thou treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender makest
With the breast thou givest and takest,
`Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

Here the anthem doth commence:
Love and constancy is dead:
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.

So they loved, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none:
Number there in love was slain.

Hearts remote, yet not asounder;
Distance, and no space was seen
`Twixt the turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder. 

So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix' sight;
Either was the other's mine.

Property was thus appall'd,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was call'd.

Reason in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either neither,
Simple were so well compounded,

That it cried, `How true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none
If what parts can so remain.'

Whereupon it made this threne
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supremes and stars of love,
As chorus to their tragic scene.

Threnos.

Beauty, thruth and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclosed in lie.

Death is now the phoenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity does rest,

Leaving no posterity:
`T was not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.

Truth may seem, but cannot be;
Beauty brag, but't is not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.

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