David Solomons - The Park on Sunday - текст песни (слова)

The Park on Sunday 
 - poem by S N Solomons

 The air is heavy this afternoon,
 Weighs heavily upon the mind
 And the heat, semi translucent,
 Presses against the slate blue sky,
 
 Tactile as a membrane,
 Bulging like cling film over
 The pulsing microwave 
 Of Loughborough Park.
 
 And Time is slow and viscous.
 
 And scattered haphazard
 On the path and grass,
 Objects, people, and colours 
 Have a surreal identity.
 
 The grass is greener,
 Sounds more strident,
 People perfect samples,
 Everything in your face.
 
 And Time is slow and viscous
 
 Little old ladies
 With short white curly hair
 Take short light genteel steps
 Into their Third Age.
 
 Old gaffers with shiny pates,
 Moustache akimbo,
 And spine welded stiff,
 Recalling how they used to march
 In their lost past.
 
 And Time is slow and viscous
 
 Families spread untidily
 And ungainly upon the grass,
 With fat pink ideal babies
 Squirming and cooing.
 And fat pink young mothers,
 Posing and dozing.
 
 Floating and flirting girls,
 Golf ball muscled boyos
 Showing off to them,
 Showing off their talents
 To the talent.
 
 And Time is slow and viscous
 In Loughborough Park