Midnight

Smoking doobies in a cold windy night on the roof, 

Mocking at this haunted world of fake spoofs.

Laughing in sick desperation at the mad butcher's door, 

And our echoes drowning forever in that bottomless floor.

This war will last forever young John,

They have remnants of graveyard yet to mourn.

There is place to drink and sleep and dine in,

But in this great hotel of laws we can never sin!

Hey little train wait for this boy with childlike dreams,

In his sleep at night he barely ever screams.

They're all painting a wall in front of our eyes,

To make us believe that the world is full of thin ice!

Old Mama has switched the television off at two in the night, 

The psychedelic outburst has blurred all the rest of light.

The ajar doors have turned from seven colours to white,

And that little voice inside your head wakes you up at midnight..

Copenhagen

Welcome to Copenhagen, the town which is demented,
Which is ruled by masqueraders and the guiltless are cremated. 

Spiders weave cobwebs in front of the people's eyes,
Those poisonous green apples are blessings in disguise.

The smile on their face is plastered like a work of wax, 

For all they have grown up with are gore, violence and sex. 

The lady in black casts your prophecy with a smile that is wicked,
But the polished diamonds shine on what's real and stark-naked. 

The druggists and the rats pollute every nook of the city,
Each street and each household, where cocaine is in scarcity.

The Law is an impotent joke, just for the sake of it's name,

The democrats with money and fame play the odds in this game. 

To all those male-chauvinists, women are just an object to stare, 

Crafty saints and sages murder religion with panache and flair.

The atheists go to the chapel and the believers pray by the grave,
Immoral virgins dance nude in the parties of booze and rave.

Damsels, hookers and love are sold cheaper than dope,

Showered with flowers, in a black limousine comes the Vatican Pope.

The pied piper has led the toddlers to their doom,

Wars of hatred will now be fought in the hearts of gloom.

Running away from Copenhagen, I look back for one last glance.
Circling over the cold corpses, the vultures perform a victory dance..