That reminds me of the time I felt

It's time for sin and catholic guilt

Two years later to the day

I had reason to confess

With her hair a shining shade

Of bus-conductress blonde

Tales of music and movement

Were told in grip and groan

But to put these thoughts

In songs like theirs

Of the honest truth

There'd be no trace

Just lying out loud



Meanwhile back here in wonderland

A sorry sight with flowers in hand

Pours his heart out till his thirst

For college girls is satisfied

Standing there with ego

Proudly on tip-toe

All the time I'm thinking

Well, well, here we go

Another perfect song of grief

Brings the house down to its knees

By dying out loud



One more awful dancer

Steptoe's son a song and dance of love

When I think of soap operas

And what makes them so popular

The answer's posing in front of my eyes



Here comes our hero in hand-me-downs

Strutting to the strain of

'Send in the Clowns'

Troops his true colours

When no-one's around

And his desk-top tales

Are the best around but

Putting pain to paper reads

Like a lunge at fame and greed

Just crying out loud