The theme this week for Jon’s JVG Radio Method on 3RRR is “School“. I started writing a poem this week and a melody popped into my head, I grabbed a guitar and next thing I knew I had this weeks song. Jon wasn’t too happy but I am , it’s a good song. Poor Ed Bates only had one play through before we went to air. He did really well on the backing slide guitar.

Click to hear today’s poem… [audio:JVG_Poem20081012.mp3]


School (a.k.a. j.a.)

A toilet at school, that’s where we first met
We both skipped assembly and shared a cigarette
It was stashed in your sock, smelly and wet
But sweeter than sermons and hymns

Neither books nor the cane stirred the scholar in you
They really had no idea, you really didn’t have a clue
But you’d study a form guide and pick a winner or two
Seemed more useful than latin or greek

Tearing round wild, ways of a child
Playing outside in the cold
Your just a boy, a boy never meant to grow old

Their champion athlete they were quick to anoint
You kept smashing records but couldn’t see the point
But you’d run like the wind for a beer or a joint
And they don’t hand out medals for that

Work wasn’t something you tried to avoid
Guess you never found time to be gainfully employed
Working on ways of how to dance to pink floyd
You weren’t just another brick in the wall

Tearing round wild, ways of a child
Playing outside in the cold
Your just a boy, a boy never meant to grow old

I never worked out where that head of yours went
The language you spoke only you could invent
Never knew what you said but i knew what you meant
And god knows you had a good heart

You’d drag yourself up then you’d fall down again
As quick as a needle could puncture a vein
You can piss in the wind and pretend that it’s rain
Regardless, you still end up wet

Tearing round wild, ways of a child
Playing outside in the cold
Your just a boy, a boy never meant to grow old

I’d always imagined you’d leave with a roar
A last act of defiance, a thunderous encore
Instead, like a lamb, you curled up on the floor
And peacefully drifted away

At your funeral we prayed you’d finally found salvation
Or anything short of eternal damnation
But you lived for the journey and fuck the destination
I can’t see them changing you now

Tearing round wild, ways of a child
Playing outside in the cold
Your just a boy, a boy never meant to grow old

© Copyright 2008 Ian Bland

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