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| Street Life © Copyright George Papavgeris, October 2008 Monday morning, treading softly as I leave the house for work Chris next door had late shift Sunday night Full-time guard and part-time fireman, not a moment to himself And to wake him up would not be right. Tuesday and Mujeeb's good lady's grinding spices for their meal Aromas through the window they escape We all stop outside a moment just to savour the perfume It's a wonder how he stays in shape A different story every day of the week As different as chalk and cheese the faces that you meet And I don't care much where they come from Who they pray to, what they eat, But I am lucky living down our stree Seven thirty, engines starting, scrapers scratching at the ice Hunter gatherers barely half awake Smiling grimly at each other, p'rhaps today will turn out nice Thursday morning, two more trips to make Janusz waiting by his front door for his morning lift to come Sandwich and banana in a towel All day working up the scaffold to bring home his daily crumb He's so good with mortar board and trowel A different story every day of the week As different as chalk and cheese the faces that you meet And I don't care much where they come from Who they pray to, what they eat, But I am lucky living down our stree Love you Mummy, Love you Daddy, down at Number 54 Little angels on their way to school Hop skip jumping to whatever life might have for them in store May their winter years never be cruel. Friday night, the youngsters heading for the town to paint it red Learning lessons others learned before They'll be back before the day breaks, empty pockets, throbbing heads (they'd) Better not be banging on the door A different story every day of the week As different as chalk and cheese the faces that you meet And I don't care much where they come from Who they pray to, what they eat, But I am lucky living down our stree Sunday morning, dozen mowers buzzing like a swarm of bees Perfect time for barbecue and beer Cross the valley watch the walkers chasing dogs among the trees And I swear that I've just seen a deer. Sunday evening, all is quiet, windows darken one by one Like a tunnel swallowing a train Soon enough alarms will ring like cockerels heralding the sun And we'll start the cycle once again A different story every day of the week As different as chalk and cheese the faces that you meet And I don't care much where they come from Who they pray to, what they eat, But I am lucky living down our street |
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George's CDs are manufactured by Bump Studios
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