Sunday, 2 March 2008



Turning, turning, turning right,
through the day and through the night;
A machine well oiled, it's purpose true,
task after task, it gets through;
A machine is inanimate, that's a fact,
from this truth, you can't detract;
Human beings are of different stock,
they don't go 'tick-tock', like a clock;
So why do we feel like cogs, so rigid,
constantly whirring, making us frigid?
Why do we impose this life so bleak?
Why do we perform, just like a freak?
Why is it we're afraid to speak?
Big Biz, it seems, has made us weak,
trivia alone, we seem to seek;
Wake up mankind, there's more to life!
Stop it!
Stop it!
Don't be so weak.


Gamble, gamble, gamble on,
destiny's waiting, for a song;
Gamble, gamble and gamble anew,
life's a gamble, it's so true;
Gamble, gamble, it's no fake,
decisions in life, that you make;
Gamble, gamble for all your worth,
to your death, and right back to birth;
Gamble, gamble in everything,
except in gambling, where there's a sting;
for in the end, you can never win


This is the story of McCall,
a man who had no power at all;
He should have been having a ball,
for a lady he did enthrall;
But this wasn't enough for McCall,
power he wanted, that's all;
But eventually he was in for a fall,
as his hold on power did stall;
For another challenged him for it all,
and it ended in a brawl;
It was clearly the end for McCall,
as he laid blooded, hurt and small;
It was then, if I recall,
that his lady offered it all;
Following a kiss, McCall stood tall,
and realised that love was real power,
that's all

All Copyright (c) Anthony North, March 2008

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