The Only Eyewitness

It's five am on a Saturday morning,
And all I am, is a man with a breifcase
Of poems and plans,
And vague observations,
A tooth brush, some toothpaste,
And plane reservations.

It's six am and I'm high over Houston,
I'm high again on a stiff gin and tonic,
I'm scared of heights,
But I'm due soon in London,
I hope they've arranged,
For the tapes to be flown in.

I'll sing.
Oh heaven help us I'll sing,
I'll throw back my head and be King,
I sing to the mountains,
I sing to the glasses,
That we have left empty.

It's eight am, and it don't feel like Saturday,
Pen in hand, I'm remembering Cathy,
And the life I left in Phoenix, Arizona,
Strawberry Fields and that records over.

It's night again in a five star hotel room,
I'm bored as sin, so I go for some more gin,
I'll find a friend, in the lobby by the window,
We'll drink 'til we know,
What we wish we knew back then.

We'll sing,
Oh heaven help us we'll sing,
We'll throw back my head and be King,
We'll sing to the mountains,
We'll sing to the glasses,
That we have left empty.

It's five am, and the clock says it's Sunday,
The pace has changed,
And there's talk shows on TV,
I'm packing bags round a body I don't know,
I said all my prayers,
It's time to go home.

It's ten am, in an office on Hyde Street,
I'm showing plans for the new advertisement,
They'll watch my hands,
Can they tell that they're shaking?
Well, I should have been a singer,
But the money I'm making

Just holds me here,
Like an old broken statue,
That birds land on,
And they beg me to join them,
I can't respond,
'Cause I'm paid to be silent,

Like the only eye-witness to an assassination.

I sing .