Books and Water

I put all my eggs in one basket
The basket that you gave to me.
One was called hope
One was called truth
And other called peace
That makes three...
No more circles round the bare light bulb
Oddly remaining me of Francis Bacon
And then I wander
just where you are
and what conections you are making
Yes, such a swift departure
You left me clutching a half paint of lager
I looked up and you were gone
Leaving the Blockheads and all your mates
on the stage to carry on...
the next generation...
Bring'em on,
bring'em on,
bring'em on...
So I'm left with the eggs and the bacon,
and you could be oceans away...
But if -when I yell outside the gates of hell-
you appear with a smile and a swagger
may be we can sit down in the devil's arms
And order a fresh paint of lager