Lucifer Shot First

With every tear shed the night lasted for longer

Every memory a painful thousand years

How he pled, how he begged, but there was no-one on the line

Since he’d burned up all his credit with that goddamn early draw

So now what, oh now what? No, this ain’t livin’

Everything I done I thought I done it well

Oh my Lord, my Lord, I am the one who fell, forsaken

Cast from heaven, lost forever in the ninth circle of hell

But there was no turning back for the light-bringer

All he wanted was to be the shining one

But the morning star was fated to lose the battle

His divine light extinguished by the blazing rising sun

So now what, oh now what? My Lord I loved thee

But you threw me down below the moaning dead

Those who gaze on me are blind with hate forever

I was once a king but turmoil haunts my mind

When he flexed his wings they said it was defiance of The Word

Agitating for an equal love above

For the sins of pride and insubordination

They hounded him with demons, all banished in the fire

So now what, oh now what? I am your servant

In the midnight doubts I will surely appear

Everywhere you see a faithless congregation

You will find me there, and I will rise again

Double-Cut McKenna

Double-Cut McKenna was a man outa time

Hopped the train to Memphis til the end of the line

When the guard demanded tickets it was surely unwise

A moment of pure tension as the two locked eyes

Then Double-Cut McKenna sliced him up with both knives

Double-Cut McKenna got his ass off the train

Guitar case in one hand, a grim smile on his face

Made his way to Beale Street where the music was blue

Drank his fill of whisky in a filthy saloon

Baby let me tell ya he was dancing with doom

His guitar safe encased the whole damn time

The barkeep laughed at him: you gonna play for us or sit?

Or are you just another poser thick in his drink?

I bet there ain't even no guitar in that thing

Double-Cut McKenna stared from under his hat

Eyes of raging fire shut the barman down flat

No-one talks to Double-Cut McKenna like that

He said:

Listen here, Slick, cause you’re coming down fast

and your mind is writing cheques that your body can’t cash

you better hope it’s quick when fate comes back for you

So listen here, Slick, cause these words are my last

and your mouth is writing cheques that your fists can’t cash

you gonna get it double when the devil knocks on your door

Crumpled on the floor in a mess of crimson blood

A bartender who bore the brunt of Double-Cut’s grudge

The knifeman took his guitar out and picked out a tune

And all the whores stood silent, awed, enraptured by blues

Whilst the devil sneaked around them and cursed their souls

With each note a demon flew and cackled alive

Down the throats of every single person inside

And each one felt malevolence like nothing before

So Double-Cut McKenna made his way to the door

To ride the train, his only home forever

Some say that you can hear him in the clicks and the clacks

Strumming out those rhythms in the tunnels and tracks

Looped in time eternally paying off his debt

His punishment for cheating in a rigged game’s bet

And all who hear the devil’s tune will sing it out in terror

Of Double-Cut McKenna:

Listen here, Slick, cause you’re coming down fast

and your mind is writing cheques that your body can’t cash

you better hope it’s quick when fate comes back for you

So listen here, Slick, cause these words are my last

and your mouth is writing cheques that your fists can’t cash

you gonna get it double when the devil knocks on your door

No More Brown Paper Parcels

He’d love that one.

That’s perfect for her.

But there’s simply two fewer

to shop for this year.

No brown paper parcel

with slippers and socks

that were half the price

of the postage’s cost.

No charity cards

with soaring white doves;

no more cursive content,

no message of love.

And, in your notebook,

in your tidy hand,

addresses updated.

But nothing to send.

Exhausting, enraging.

Still unfair. Still sick.

Half-blind, reaching, flailing,

through translucent mist.

But when I see presents

that I’ll leave behind,

I will value the fact

that our lives intertwined,

Cause you taught this lesson

through all that you did:

It’s the thought that matters

not the price of the gift.