The mournful clouds oppress my soul. Of course, we have to presume:
A- I have a soul and B – If I have, could it be oppressed. But it’s better than saying, ‘I’m sick of the rain,’ isn’t it? I do know the sun lightens my soul, an indisputable fact. Couple this with awe-inspiring clouds and I’m happy.
I like to lay on the grass, there’s a smell, it transports you to childhood- particularly when freshly-cut. Grass fights with Susan Wright, we were twelve and if twelve-year-olds could be in love? We were. She was the school caretakers daughter and I could see her bedroom window from my bedroom window.
It was a long way away, so our romantic liaisons (if that’s what they were) consisted of switching our lights on and off. Maybe we soothed our physical absence by comforting our souls through the transference of light. Or maybe we were just two kids pissing around with light switches?
Anyway, I love to lay on the grass, watch clouds, smell bar-b-q’s, listen to the chatter of people as they wander past with no comprehension they are overheard. I hum‘Lazy Sunday’ Small Faces.
Gor blimey hello Mrs Jones
How’s old Bert’s lumbago?
(He mustn’t grumble) 😂😂