Lights

I used to drive for a living
Hairy arms fed the wheel thorough my palms
Twitching feet made patterns on pedals
Reflexes honed in a twice-failed test
The pay man Lance kept me elastic bound
In the echelons of West One
Slim chance of the odd long journey
Kept me clinging to him for too long
Locked in a car all day
Came home and worked on Children At Play
I had no deal then, but I had fifty blank tapes in a bag waiting
Held out for Beckett's Launch, as they held T.J, the kitchen letter flew in
I knew it wouldn't be long before I wrote Carbon Cones

Only last week, I noticed that the colors of the
Lights in my studio are the same as the ones you conjure in my mind
You and me, green pea green, cherry red and red and blue
When my Amiga reads from a disk you know the
Green fills the room and your long summer dress fills my mind

My other jobs were none to speak of "Make a coffee for the man in Avid One
Drop these lunches off then take this Betacam to a place on Dean Street"
Most posts seemed to involve the lifting of heavy boxes
Feelin' great, s-soft drink, or hyperbole-ing finance files
A man of such small frame as I broke into several sweats a day
Whilst failing to procure even the hint of any musculature improvement
Heavy-lifting days are in the bin now, but I still dip into tempting
Wearing the odd suit, attending the odd interview
Subsidizing the drum programming you hear today

Only last week, I noticed that the colors of the
Lights in my studio are the same as the ones you conjure in my mind
Yellow and green, green pea green, cherry red and red and blue
Just yesterday I was woken by a flashing of a
Light from my studio confirming that this time-stretch was complete

Only last week, I noticed that the colors of the
Lights in my studio are the same as the ones you conjure in my mind