Make Tea Not War.

Houses close together,

no room for real territory,

its derogatory

in a ten storey flat

surrounded by rats.

They’re the King of your castle.

It’s a farce. All these cars

to drive short journeys to places

with smaller spaces.

You’ve got your shoes,

you’ve got your laces,

tie them and go.

Let your muscles grow,

we’re so slow,

losing control of our feet.

Of the beats within us.

Roxette said to listen to your heart,

it’s a start, our natural rhythm

is dwindling and hinders

the fire to cinders.

A fires gone out

so what’s it about?

Life.

A man walks through Waterloo

station with the patience

and honour of God’s angels.

His angle was all right.

He was healthy and slight,

he was black, all in white

and he carried a bag.

He sang.

He sang for God and Jesus

and we all thought:

Jesus he is good,

with food for thought.

He caught us in a moment

of simple joy and serenity.

Serenity and peace.

I don’t want to be a preacher

and I won’t preach to you,

beseech you

or beg of you not to pray to God

but to pray for us.

To pray for change,

for us to say “I forgive us,

let’s start again,

let’s be friends.

Let’s start with Hello’s.

We’ll take it slow.

Cold straight to hot

can be fatal.

I’m not asking for passion,

presentation and charm.

Let’s not do harm.

Nice, nice, nice,

not sugar and spice.

It’s not the 60′s any more

but darling, let’s make tea not war.