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2018: Lyrics & Poems

Copyright 2019 Andrew Robert Chapman

Published by Andrew Robert Chapman at Smashwords

Edition 2019.2.1

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents





(I Don’t Mind ‘n’) You Don’t Care

(I’m Gonna Make Her Remember My Name) Tomorrow

(Let Loose) The Dragons


Ain’t No Fun


Alley Cat



Blast Off

Break The Rules

Butt Plug


Cleansing The Herd

Daisy Chain

Death Row



Dog Collar


Eat, Drink And Be Merry



Fallin’ For You

God Save Our Tommy

Green-Eyed Monster


Hairy Mary

Hangin’ Around

High-Heels ‘n’ Handcuffs

Honey Trapped!

How True

I Wish I Were A Star

I’m Down Deep




Just Dance




Livin’ Off The Grid

Love Is Pain

Makin’ Up ‘n’ Makin’ Out

Miss Perfect

My Bit On The Side

Never A Good Time

Out O’ The Red

Peggy Sue

Pony Tails

Pussy Whipped

Quiet Ones Are The Worst

Sad Songs

Some Sin To Remember


Stone-Cold Sober

Straight To The A

Swing Fling


Tell The Truth

The Beast

The Fifth Column

The Third Degree


Time To Spare

Too Good To Be True

Tough Love




When The Devil Comes Knockin’

When The Wolf Cries (It’s too late)

When Worlds Collide

White Helmets

Song background information

(I’m Gonna Make Her Remember My Name) Tomorrow


Death Row

God Save Our Tommy


Peggy Sue

Song breakdown/explanation

Peggy Sue


About the author

Other books by the author

Contacts and Links


When I starting compiling this book’s content I was asked for whom I was writing it for. I replied “For myself.”

Contrary to all advice concerning writing eBOOKs, my motivation is not to appeal to a wide audience, achieve international fame nor make a fortune, large or small. The song lyrics in this book were written with the hope and intention that they one day achieve immortality on a professionally produced studio CD. But, since I started writing poems in 2012, the amount of rhymes, ditties and lyrics has swollen to the extent that any plan to record them all is hopelessly unrealistic.

Thus, instead of them languishing unrevealed, unread and unheard of, a plan formed to make them accessible to the world via a self-published eBOOK. Should just a single word, line, stanza or refrain from the book’s lyrics raise a smile, give pause for thought or even manage to inspire a single person, then my time and effort have been more than worthwhile and rewarded.


In 2012 I was asked to write lyrics for several band projects, one of which was to lead to the formation of the rock band WildScreW and culminate with the production of a studio CD, “Writing On The Wall”*, at the end of 2016 with myself as vocalist.

The CD’s title song was to become a finalist in the 19th Great American Song Contest.

*Paperback readers must navigate themselves manually to the hyperlinks embedded directly in the eBOOK by referring to the “Contacts and Links” section, where all relevant hyperlinks can be found, including the location of any audio files.


Songwriting, or more specifically lyric writing, in 2018 initially continued at the sedate pace from the end of 2017. However, after a four week hiatus from writing during my summer vacation, several gears engaged in my head and I caught what I can only describe as the equivalent of verbal diahorrea: a dose of writer’s rush. Initially I was to bleed one song a day and, at the time of writing this preamble in October, literally haemorrhaging three songs a day. By the end of the year I was to have authored over seventy new rhymes.

Before I married eleven of my lyrics to musical melodies and sang them with a rock band in a professional recording studio, I used to take an inordinate amount of time fettling my rhymes so that, at least to my mind, the metre, the rhythm, the pace, the meaning, everything I considered vital to the flow and comprehension, was as perfect as I could manage.

I was effectively writing poems.

I was to quickly learn, however, that as soon as a poem is put to music, the strict rules which apply to prose become extremely lax or are completely thrown out of the window. The words which now wrap themselves around a musical melody can be shortened or lengthened by the articulation of the singer in a way which can not be donated or conveyed in a poem’s written form (although I sometimes attempt this by breaking words with hyphens or compressing them to phonetics). Furthermore music producers and studio adaptations and necessities place further demands on a songwriter and a song’s structure, which cause last minute lyrical rewrites and polishing in the studio.

And thus it was I decided, after my experience with WildScreW, that I would purposely leave all my future poetic efforts in a much rawer and less-polished state. Should the occasion arise that such a poem is put to music, then that would be the time to spend the extra effort refining, polishing and honing the rhymes.

Examples of this late stage honed and polished lyrics are “Badlands” and “Peggy Sue” which were put to music as ALPHAs for FATE and WildßcreW respectively in June 2018.

Over the years I have also discovered that it is best to literally dump to (digital) paper what ever words and ideas are coursing through one’s mind: Effectively not applying a filter. When I started writing poetry I too often thought “This idea is too puerile!” or “This isn’t my style!” or some other reason not to progress with whatever idea had pushed its way to the front of my mind. And, in my case at least, that usually led to writer’s block, as my work on a different idea would be hindered by the interference from recurring themes from the original, blocked poem. By starting (though not necessarily finishing) any ideas which come into my head, my mind finds closure with that thought concept and is free and uncluttered to move unencumbered onto the next idea.

That is possibly the reason why I am currently bleeding lyrics, as I have applied no tourniquet, and it is definitely the reason why there will be a certain tally of resultant poems which are in dire need of polish, fettling and which even contain unfinished lines or rhymes.

Poetry, in all its forms, is an art. You either like a painter’s realism phase or their abstract work. Rarely both. But I hope you stumble across a couple of rhymes which make the time you’ve taken to read them more than worth your while.

The songs are presented chronologically in the order they were written and copyrighted.


The eBOOK links to my WORDPRESS site SONGANDVERSE reveal that I write my lyrics using a colour code to optically highlight the various song parts. Thus the simply typed PRE-CHORUS and CHORUS serve to reflect the text contained in their equally colour coded counterparts at the start of the song. BRIDGE and PARLANDO parts of a song are also uniquely coloured, in order to visually separate them from the other song parts.

Unfortunately, for eBOOK compatibility, all text has been coloured black/automatic.

(I’m Gonna Make Her Remember My Name) Tomorrow

Ivory skin, swathed in black lace,

body to die for, pretty poker-face.

A cute* enigma, wrapped in intrigue.

Untouchable*, I’m outtoffer league. But

I got a trick or two up my sleeve,

a sleight of hand bu’ma lips are sealed.

I’m gonna make her, remember my name: Tomorrow!

Too hot to handle, ahminna cold sweat.

Moves like a pussy …. cat (plays) hard to get.

In love and war, a man’s bounden duty:

To the victor the spoils, plunder and booty! An’

I got a trick or two up my sleeve,

a sleight of hand anner fate is sealed!


Oozes high-class, outta ev’ry pore.

b’she ain’t no lady, behind closed doors.


Outta control, crazy psychopath.

Too late to stop, the aftermath.


Copyright 2.1.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

*A cute/Acute:

*Untouchable: As in she’s unrivalled and me lowest caste.

Sad Songs

It’s the middle of the night, my heart’s heavier than lead.

I’m wide awake thinkin’ ’bout the bitter/cruel things I said,

I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place.

Had to save you from the crush, I steamrollered everything in the rush.

Words echo in my head, my heart beats a heavy time.

Can’t take back what I said, I’m hurtin’, I should be cryin’


I don’t wanna hear anymore – sad songs.

I haven’t slept a wink, haven’t any appetite.

My thoughts are somewhere else, my mind’s spinnin’ wild,

You didn’t know you were tied to the railroad tracks.

Had to cut you free, had to save your neck

but I bull-horned everything caused another train wreck.




I don’t wanna write anymore – sad songs.

Copyright 10.1.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

Just Dance

I aint no wimp, but I aint no hunk.

I’m never (hic) sober, never quite drunk.

Dressed to the nines, gonna have a ball.

Prowlin’ the skirt, on the dance floor.

What’s her problem? Why that stance?

I’m overdue some light romance!

She won’t give me half a chance,

all she wants: is to:

(Dance, dance, dance) is to

(Dance, dance, dance) she wants to

(Dance, dance, dance) just dance.

I love to talk, to wine and dine.

You need a gent(leman)? Where do I sign?

(but) every so often, ev’ry now and then,

I need a woman, time an’ again. So



Copyright 1.2.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

Miss Perfect

Guaranteed: to turn all heads, guaranteed: to stop time.

No one sees, your sufferin’, no one sees, you’re bled white.

High-class taste, don’t come cheap, high-class style a royal pain.

In your dreams: you’re free once more, in your dreams: no lace chains.

Ya’ thought you were cool when ya asked her out.

Thought things were fine and dandy.

Thought you’d got it made when she said “I do”,

your perfect arm eye-candy.

I don’t need another “Miss Perfect”: Pointin’ out my flaws.

I don’t need another “Miss Perfect”: Can’t bear it anymore.

I don’t need another “Miss Perfect”: Naggin’ from the off.

I don’t need another “Miss Perfect”: I liked what I got.

All the lies: You were force fed, all the lies, you believed.

Peer pressure, got you deaf and blind, peer pressure gotya deceived.

No one tried: To tell you the truth, no one tried to help.

A golden cage: is a cage none the less, imprisoned in a livin’ hell.



Copyright 5.2.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

Cleansing The Herd

Our drinking water is unclean, we’re overdosing oestrogen:

Young boys effeminated.

They are poisoning our food, slowly, slowly, sly and shrewd:

Their cull well orchestrated.

Controlling the masses with fear as the whip.

Take your medication I’m onna red-pill trip.

They’re cleansing the herd.

Dictating what we should believe, pollute the very air we breathe:

Our young girls alpha ogres.

Contaminating our blue skies, choking on their climate lies:

They’re working hard on our game over.

Serums and vaccinnations, administered at birth.

Antigens inoculations, what is your child’s health worth?



Philanthropic psychopaths, will bleed from our blades of wrath.

For their sacking of our Eden.

When enough see what they’ve done, when push comes to bloody shove:

We will hang them for their treason.



Copyright 22.2.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman


What was she fuckin’ thinkin’?

She’s gone completely mad!

Our fat leader’s rediscovered God,

and His name is Islam.

The naive don’t see the danger,

welcome death with teddy bears.

When it’s tearin’ out their throats,

scoffin’ at their meek Lord’s prayers.

Our great and glorious leader, with her five hour master plan.

Stutterin’ and mumblin’ flushed the country down the pan.

Back-stabbing Judas.

She’s a traitor, she’s a Quisling.

Madder than a mad march hare.

Tweedle Dumb bought for thirty pieces,

Soros silver stealth warfare.

The “woke” heads so far up their asses

cheerin’ on “diversity”.

Strippin’ their shallow lives of freedom,

with imported adversity.

Our great and glorious leader, stupid ugly dyke.

Without a shot being fired surrendered land and Reich.


Championed by rainbow warriors.

Crazy does as crazy see.

‘cos when the tide turns, when cities burn,

they’ll be the first to die and bleed.



Copyright 23.2.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman


I can’t: remember where I’ve been,

jumbles of: cutting-room floor scenes.

Build fragments of my life.

Seems like: each and every friend

knows more: ’bout the time I spend,

the demons which I fight.

I feel the pressure in my head,

can see fifteen types of red.

Gimme a drink, I need alcohol.

I’ve done: stuff to make me proud.

Bin a: lone voice in a crowd.

Nailed my colours to the mast.

Some say: it’s plain, dumb stubborness,

I’ve bin: plagued by their bad press,

banished and outcast.

I feel the pressure in my head,

can see fifteen types of red.


I’ve bin: swimmin’ ‘gainst the tide.

walked the walk with no free rides.

Watched the useless pass me by.

It wasn’t: good but I still smiled,

but now: I’m old, sore and tired.

guess it’s time to say goodbye.

Feel the noose around my neck,

I’m cashin’ in my life’s rain cheque.


Copyright 1.3.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

White Helmets

Here they come! Here they come! Sound, camera, action!

A Hollywood movie team, record heroic deeds.

Blood-and-gore, playing war, child-crisis actors.

Fake horror and crocodile tears.

Well-financed heels, oil dirty deals:

Oh won’t somebody think of the children?

Send in (send in) the white helmets!

Financed by the grey elite, God’s impartial task force.

Salute those friendly NGOs, your psyche’s trojan horse.

The next false flag, it’s a wrap. Broadcast (it) as the truth!

Well-styled media mouths, cock-suckin’ kowtowers,

espouse peace, but never cease, to turn/twist your mind’s thumbscrews.

Pushin’ for war, their holiest sacred cow.



Copyright 4.5.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

God Save Our Tommy

The heavy hand of the long arm, a pinch away from Dredd,

cast a blind eye toward the baby rapes, “the law” and crime in bed.

As the masses cheer in their circuses, minitrue warp reality.

Is this what your forefathers fought and died for? Is this democracy?

A thin blue line was crossed today.

Remember, remember our last hooray.

God save! God save our Tommy!

Slowly, slowly like a frog bein’ boiled, laws change by hook or crook,

no-one seems to be paying attention, to nanny State’s jackboot.

Now plain and obvious to the blindest man, the soulless upper crust.

A breach of the peace sparks a civil war, dry powder and God we trust.



To the Quislings and appeasers,

to you traitors and false Caesars:

You’ve sown the seeds.

Let contempt breed.

Now reap the whirlwind you deserve:

no mercy, no quarter from we serfs.

White tax mules breaking their brittle backs, ripe for the knacker’s yard,

they’ve turned our young men into soy boys, our daughters raped ard scarred.

The po-lice armed and dangerous, won’t bite the hand that feeds.

But justice is ours and bulletproof, it’s time for the streets to bleed.



Copyright 28.5.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman


Drivin’ hard – day and night.

Out of my mind, out of sight.

They want my ass – dead or alive!

I ain’t goin’ down – without a fight.

Got Gold. Got guns.

Beer, bullets an’ a truck full o’ fun!

I’m out in the Badlands

Got guns. Got Gold.

slim momma an’ an open road!

We’re out in the Badlands

Way out in the Badlands

Bidin’ time – kickin’ cans,

’round ‘n’ ’round circlin’ the pan.

When this shitstorm hits the fan?

Activate my masterplan!

Get guns. Get Gold.

A fast chopper an’ an open road!

Head out to the Badlands


Head out to the Badlands

Way out in the Badlands

Deep down in the Badlands

Good times in the Badlands

Copyright 12.6.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

Peggy Sue

Repentin’ at leisure come in out of the rain.

Business an’ pleasure, nice to feel you again!

Stiff conversation maskin’ lurid thoughts,

the best-laid plans oft, come to nought.

An’ somethin’ here ain’t right!

Her bare-fists clenchin’ tight.

I can’t put up a fight!

You only have to kiss me, to show how much you missed me!

There’s evil in her smile.

Watchin’ me jerk/toss ‘n’ writhe.

Can no one hear my plight/cries?

But(t) she ain’t halfway thru with me. Peggy Peggy Peggy Peggy!

Oooooooo … Peggy Sue.

Nowt’s queer as folk, nudge nudge wink wink.

White’s the new black, tickle me pink.

Head-to-toe a pro, each wish A cOmmand:

Closed brown eyes think of Eng(er)land.

But somethin’ here ain’t right,

skewered on a spike!

Jesus fuckin’ (H.) Christ!!

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