Is She Reading Robert Noonan?

High heels and a summer dress,
looks around to see who she can impress.
But the world and his wife
just couldn't care less,
like a stoic impasse
in a drawn game of chess.

Ah. But is she reading Robert Noonan?
Robert Noonan?

A subtle reminder on valentines day,
of a radiant glow from her huge bouquet.
and the world's ok
when someone else pays,
but who pays the piper
when he carries you away?

She's surely not reading Robert Noonan?
Robert Noonan?


Capability Red aprox 1990

One Dismal Thursday Morning

In Leadenhall Street it was raining
one dismal Thursday morning,
the rain fell faster than the pound
before some gloomy fiscal warning.

The lady's, they were quenching
as they shimmied 'neath their brolleys,
I couldn't spot the difference 'tween
the Claire's and the Holly's.

Some overworked light bulbs
were glowing like a haven,
on a number fifteen in disguise,
the morning's soul they were saving.

The walls of all the buildings
were closing in around me.
Giving reference to Dickens
St Mary Axe? go on; astound me.



Capability Red aprox 1980

The girl with the sun in her eyes

She hasn't made her mind up yet,
she said.
The girl with the sun in her eyes.
She's not really sure,
which way to vote.
She doesn't understand it much anyway,
she said.
The girl with the sun in her eyes.
I, tried to explain to her,
what it was all about.
Her mind was wandering,
I could see she wasn't paying attention.
The girl with the sun in her eyes.
And she looked at me,
but I don't know what she saw.
The sun was in her eyes.
She said something about her new shoes.
How much they cost?
or something?
I'm not really sure about:
The girl with the sun in her eyes.
We never spoke much after that,
we were on sort of,
different wavelengths.
Me, and,
the girl with the sun in her eyes.
Have you made up your mind?
Which way to vote.
Do you?
Have a good job in the city.
Are you wearing new shoes?
Are you
The girl with the sun in her eyes?



Capability Red 1987

Tebbit

He's got the profile of Joseph Goeballs
and the charm of Albert Speer.
He's as trustworthy as Lord Haw Haw.
But not half as sincere.

Tebbit is his name,
MP? my arse!
He should be tried as a war criminal,
for crimes against the working class.

Norman Tebbit lives!
That's open to debate.
He seems half dead
and always looks in a state.

He is so nondescript
words can't justify him.
I never cease to wander
how the reaper keeps passing by him?

He impresses the Tory faithfull
with rhetoric crude and hollow.
concocting a social poison,
that only a fool would swallow.

Devoid of original thought,
afflicted with a mental malaise,
he creeps through the corridors of power,
like a blinded rat in a maze.

He's destroying jobs and services,
throwing workers on the dole.
Then screaming for law and order,
to keep them under control.

But, the nation is getting wise,
to what Tebbit is really like.
and the message of the people is clear:
On yer fucking bike!



CapabilityRed aprox 1985

So Much To Lose

Still paying for the jet and the rest of the debt, left over from last year's holiday?
And it's a pretty even bet, that the mail order threat will carry you into the deep water, out of the bay.
You've got the freedom to pay your bills any way that you choose.
So, you'd better behave and be a good slave. 'Cos you know you've got so much to lose.

Ah! You've got so much to lose,
you can afford to be abused,
if you want to pay for that cruise.
Ever felt you're being used?

Despite attempts to pretend that you've got so many friends. How does it feel to be alone?
And at the week-end, working overtime again, slurring and slumping and falling asleep on the 'phone.
You find it convenient to wear that made -to-measure stare.You know, public opinion point of view.
And it's totally against the grain, on the bus, or the train, for someone to make an example out of you.

Because you've got so much to lose,
you can tell me, do you feel confused?
Sort of, battered and bruised.
The Anglo American blues?

Strollin' down the street, make sure you're casual but neat. Never know who you might impress.
Wouldn't it be so complete, if you were to unexpectedly meet that project that answers your calls in American Express?
Does it tingle your conscience, to read all the nonsense in the headlines and the news?
Being bourgeois, eating pomme de terre and petit pois. Can you ever explain these virtues?

No. You've got so much to lose,
you know that you stand accused.
Tell me, how many pairs of shoes,
have you got, but never use?




CapabilityRed aprox 1987

Sign Up Today

They'll give you a chance and they'll give you a gun.
And they'll give you a licence to shoot anyone
In the name of freedom, St George, or the queen.
And you can learn to drive a tank if you're really that keen:

So; sign up today,
sign up today,
step right this way,
and sign up today.

They'll make it sound simple if you don't understand.
Why are you here, on somebody else's land?
You'll learn about NATO and the Warsaw Pact.
And Sargent will watch to note how you react:

So; sign up today,
sign up today,
step right this way,
and sign up today.

You'll get full military honours if you get blown to hell.
Your folks can feel proud of you, your neighbours as well.
Join up for your country, it's a brave thing to do.
But if there's a war, Lord have mercy on you:

So; sign up today,
sign up today,
step right this way,
and sign up today.


CapabilityRed aprox 1982

GARBAGE

I'm staying in tonight, but there's garbage on the screen,
like a technicolour yawn, it creases up my spleen.
There's garbage in the Express and more garbage in the Sun,
I avoid the Daily Mail, but I've heard it's not much fun.
If I go down to my local, stick my head inside the door,
the bar's a graveyard of broken glasses, and there's garbage on the floor.
Garbage on the underground, garbage on the bus,
you get garbage across your head, if you bother to make a fuss.

Next door's cat's in the garbage, he's hunting for last night's skate.
Unless he keeps his whiskers out of my garbage, he'll end up being served on a plate.

You listen to a load of garbage, in the canteen, at work.
If you try to raise the tone of conversation, they label you some sort of jerk.
I like the word Garbage. I's relevant to everyday life.
The obvious common label, for anxiety, strain and strife.
It's all garbage when you think about it. From the cradle to the coffin.
The garbage they carry you into, and the garbage they carry you off in.

It's the same at the Job Centre, the garbage they try to spill ya.
They send you to work for a boss, and he almost tries to kill ya!
Garbage, garbage, garbage. What else is there to say?
To waste my time writing about garbage. I ought to be locked away!



CapabilityRed aprox 1986