Best and Worst prog lyrics

There may be an om in moment
But there's very few folk in focus
Not the first, not the last, not the least
You needn't be well to be wealthy
But you've got to be whole to be holy
Fetch the rope, fetch the clock, fetch the priest
Oh this planet of ours is a mess
I bet Heaven's the same
Look the madman said, "Son,
As a friend, tell me what's in a name"
Hallowed be thy name.

I give you the state of statesmen
And the key to what motivates them
On the left, on the right, on the nail
Still I don't see a man in a mansion
That an accurate pen won't puncture
Go to town, go to hell, go to jail
And there's bars and saloons
Where the jukebox plays blues in the night
Till the madman says "Son,
Time to go we could both use some light"
And thy will be done

We live in an age of cages
The tale of an ape escaping
In the search for some truth he can use
But many a drunk got drunker
And mostly a thinker, thunker
Set the place, set the time, set the fuse,
The optimist laughed and the pessimist cried in his wine
And the madman said "Son,
Take a word they'll all wake given time"
Let thy kingdom come

The madman and I got drunker
Till both thought the other tank you
And we laughed all the way to the stars
The optimist asked for a taste of the pessimist's wine
And the madman said "Son,
How do you feel?" I said "Me? I feel fine
Lead me into temptation
Into temptation
I said into temptation
I need my allocation of recreation
I want a revelation in degradation
No hesitation, give me variation, give me inspiration"

worst

Love Beach

From my non-hit, "Romanian Fluids"....

The Black Sea washes the broken shore

And the barrier shapes all around....

I cast my eyes on a blackened moon

That the shoreline police haven't found....

The air is so cold in the presence of these

Uncountable fluids I see.....

Their story relayed is retold in the waves

And the burden is now placed on me.....

(backstory - I visited Romania in 1979, when it was Communist and under the rule of Nicolae Ceaușescu.) 

I'll start with these...

Cold and misty morning, I heard a warning borne in the air
About an age of power where no one had an hour to spare,
Where the seeds have withered, silent children shivered, in the cold
Now their faces captured in the lenses of the jackals for gold.

Thanks!  I'd LOVE to put stuff online, but it is all on cassette tapes, and I have to have them digitized etc. 

I play bass with Squire's technique, play Fripp-like fuzz tone guitar leads, and have a whiny, nasal Eno-esque voice!  It has made for hilarious music with my friends over the years!  Watch this space....

this one never gets old