not bad for a morning's tube ride into work. Hit a bit of a purple vein. Must have been the solstice morning. Still unfinished but the carpenter from carpenters pencil is back and struggling for inspiration because the lady of the wood won't let him see the shapes he need to see to make things. A bit like song writing, probably.
It's ten years since i cut the grain
Since i made a mark with a lathe or a plain
Ten years since the blade moved my hand
Shaving away what the wood would command
But She won't speak to me no more
Won't reveal clues to what lies in the core
She'd take my heart and cut my hands
cos I saw the face of her ever green man
A carpenter lives for the line
Mining the shapes from the circles of time
Just a pawn in natures old game
Breathing in life to what's felled by the chain
But she won't talk to me no more
Hours I stand but it's not like before
She blunts the knife and soaks my tears
Cos I know what's in store when the green man appears
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