The cripplegate friar

In the abbey where they give me some sanctuary they’re drinking wine while I’m supping cold tea, matins in Latin and I’m sat in a cell, I say what the hell? and they censure me, I’m going as mad and holier than Joe  who’s a missionary and I’m thinking of joining a Monastery. Pity me…

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Trapdoor Johnny

Trying to unwind the cobwebs that wheel around inside, trying to disappear but I know it’s useless to hide. Out of the golden triangle, looking for angles, am I obtuse? but it’s all grist to the mill which no longer exists and that is my only excuse. And I’m jumping to several conclusions it’s a…

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The G spot

On the radio, the deliverance show praise be and all that you see. I listen in occasionally and accordingly it seems I’m damned to be burned in the fires of a hell well it’s cold anyway…

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