The road to hell

Driving down the road to hell
I’m plagued with good intentions
I think this is when your friends
Are supposed to start an intervention
Basically I came to work with the purest of intents
To restrain myself from giving my art director my ten cents
Worth of copywriter creative critique
He does not really like it if I question his technique

Now the technique of teenage dating
Had not changed much in passing years
There are still notes passed in class
and broken hearted tears
The phone that never stops ringing from the time
you’ve walked in the door
They’ve chatted all day already
and now they want to talk some more!
The love letters decorated with hearts and kissing couples
That’s the kind of thing right there that gets a kid in trouble
But things would be much simpler if
as grown ups we could say, “Hello
Would you like to be my girlfriend,
please tick yes or no?”

Speaking of feet in mouths I empathise
I undertook for my 4 year old’s party to provide
Some things to eat and more to drink
A cake and sweets and what do you think
About it, if the cake was a robot, well?
I think it’s fab. Yeah really swell
Can you detect any rising panic there?
Of course I can do it, I won’t turn a hair
Which is why I must give thanks to Scott
Who has drawn me an awesome cake robot

I have been having a post-modernist discussion
About literature and poetry and a child’s imagination
How stories are woven from the magic of the air
To create a reality that is almost but not quite here
I realise what a privileged life I have led
With a father who read me poetry before I went to bed
The Highwayman and Edward Lear
Treasure Island and Edward Bear
Stories of heroes both alive and dead
Who never ever ever in the face of danger fled
And when the wind is a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
And the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas
And the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
Then I hear the highwayman come riding, riding, riding
I hear him come riding up to the old inn door
He doesn’t live on celluloid
And cannot by any man be destroyed
For he lives in my heart and every night
He gallops through my dreams in sheer delight

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