When the day is done

When the day is done
Down to earth then sinks the sun
Along with everything that was lost and won
When the day is done

When the day is done
Hope so much your race will be all run
Then you find you jumped the gun
Have to go back where you begun
When the day is done

When the night is cold
Some get by but some get old
Just to show life’s not made of gold
When the night is cold

When the bird has flown
Got no-one to call your own
Got no place to call your home
When the bird has flown

When the game’s been fought
Newspaper blown accross the court 
Lost much sooner than you would have thought
Now the game’s been fought

When the party’s through 
Seems so very sad for you
Didn’t do the things you meant to do
Now there’s no time to start anew
Now the party’s through

When the day is done
Down to earth then sinks the sun
Along with everything that was lost and won
When the day is done


Nick Drake (Rangún, Birmania, 1948 – Tanworth-In-Arden, 1974)

In the air

                       















Who can know

The thoughts of Mary Jane

Why she flies

Or goes out in the rain

Where she’s been

And who she’s seen

In her journey to the stars

Who can know

The reason for her smile

What are her dreams 

When they’ve journeyed for a mile

The way she sings

And her brightly coloured rings

Make her the princess of the sky

Who can know

What happens in her mind

Did she come 

From a strange world

And leave her mind behind

Her long lost sighs

And her brightly coloured eyes

Tell her story to the wind

Who can know

The thoughts of Mary Jane

Why she flies

Or goes out in the rain

Where she’s been

And who she’s seen

In her journey to the stars

Scott Matthews

Day is done

When the day is done
Down to earth then sinks the sun
Along with everything that was lost and won
When the day is done

When the day is done
Hope so much your race will be all run
Then you find you jumped the gun
Have to go back where you begun

When the day is done
When the night is cold
Some get by but some get old
Just to show life's not made of gold
When the night is cold

When the bird has flown
Got no-one to call your own
Got no place to call your home
When the bird has flown

When the game's been fought
You sped the ball across the court
Lost much sooner than you would have thought
Now the game's been fought

When the party's through
Seems so very sad for you
Didn't do the things you meant to do
Now there's no time to start anew
Now the party's through

When the day is done
Down to earth then sinks the sun
Along with everything that was lost and won
When the day is done

Three hours

Three hours from sundown

Jeremy flies

Hoping to keep

The sun from his eyes

East from the city

And down to the cave

In search of a master

In search of a slave

Three hours from London

Jacomo’s free

Taking his woes 

Down to the sea

In search of a lifetime

To tell when he’s home

In search of a story

That’s never been known

Three hours from speaking

Everyone’s flown

Not wanting to be 

Seen on their own

Three hours is needed

To leave from them all

Three hours to wonder

And three hours to fall

Three hours from sundown

Jeremy flies

Hoping to keep 

The sun from his eyes

East from the city

And down to the cave

In search of a master 

In search of a slave

The shell

The shell (a skin too few)

Living grows round us like a skin

To shut away the outer desolation

For if we clearly mark the furthest deep

We should be dead long years before the grave.

But turning around within the homely shell

Of worry, discontent, and narrow joy

We grow and flourish

And rarely see the outside dark

That would confound our eyes.

Some break the shell.

I think that there are those

Who push their fingers through

The brittle walls

And make a hole.

And through this cruel slit

Stare out across the cinders of the world

With naked eyes.

They look both out and in

Knowing themselves

And too much else beside

Molly Drake