Paul J Penton – Songwriter

Looking for Mr Perfect-Demo 5 May 2009
© 2009 Penton

She’s been chasin’ Mr Perfect for almost all her life
love’s come and gone been lost and won – she’s ain’t nobodies wife
her bio-bomb is tickin’, she’s almost had her run
she knows she’d better find him soon –
or it’s over and done

She’s always known precisely what he needs to be
muscles lean and tight blue jeans – smile by D & G
but all her aspirations have never been fulfilled
every bar stool disappointment just left her with a chill

To get her dates she uses the best technology
she’s a heavy duty user on RSVP
she meets her dates by G.P.S. and lets them go by S.M.S.
but her love life’s a crazy Mess …….
And there’s no Mr perfect
no Mr Perfect

She works out like a demon to keep herself in shape
kick boxing on a Tuesday night , it’s Tai-bo on Thursday
The corporate life she’s livin’ don’t leave her too much time
for chasin’ men and wonderin’ when
he’s gonna arrive

I’ve watched on from the side lines I’ve seen the highs and lows
heard her laughter watched the tears
chased away those blues and fears
she meets her dates by G.P.S. and lets them go by S.M.S.
but her love life’s a crazy Mess
still there’s no….no Mr perfect, no Mr Perfect

She always wants to tell me how bad each date has been
she calls me up at half past ten saying that she’s over men
If she could drop that bar a notch and live without the Rolex watch
I’d be everything she wants I’d be
her Mr perfect …
her Mr perfect
her Mr Perfect

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Mr Perfect

She’s been chasin’ Mr Perfect
for almost all her life
love’s come and gone
been lost and won
she’s ain’t nobodies wife
her bio-bomb is tickin’,
she’s almost had her run
she knows she’d better find him soon
or it’s over and done

She’s always known precisely
what he needs to be
muscles lean and
tight blue jeans
smile by D & G
but all her aspirations have never been fulfilled
every bar stool disappointment
just left her with a chill

To get her dates she uses the best technology
she’s a heavy duty user on RSVP
she meets her dates by G.P.S.
and lets them go by S.M.S.
her love life’s is still a mess …….

she works out like a demon and
keeps herself in shape
kick boxing on a Tuesday night
Tai-bo on Thursday
This corporate life she’s livin’
don’t leave her too much time
for chasin’ men and wonderin’ when
he’s gonna arrive

I’ve watched on from the side lines
I’ve seen her highs and lows
heard the laughter watched her tears
worked through all her blues and fears
she meets her dates by G.P.S.
and lets them go by S.M.S.
but her love life is still a mess
and still there’s no….
Mr perfect
Mr Perfect

lead

She always wants to tell me
how bad each date has been
she calls me up at half past ten
saying that she’s over men
If she could drop that bar a notch
and live without the Rolex watch
It might be just what she wants
her
mr perfect
mr perfect
I’d be Mr Perfect

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Tall stories
always adding an an element of  drama and intrigue
making things larger than life
bigger than they appear
he wa great at doing that
telling those tall stories
tall as the masts on the square riggers he sailed on
tall as the glasses of beer he laerned to do it with
tall stories

Confectionary free

I thought this was an aisle
where you could not buy confectionary
upon enquiry I discovered 
confectionary was not available
to those little fingers of little children
they would not be tempted
on the way through

Reaching out
fingers stretched
for bright wrappers
enticing colours
sucking you in
making your hands reach out

You remember the last time
you tasted pleasure
and your brain threw out chemicals
pathways of pleasure
released in advance
of what it will be like
to have another kiss
another glance

But mum knows best
she’s headed straight toward
the aisle with the sign
‘confectionary free’
no temptations today
just a round of magazines
the latest on Brad and Angelina and jen
and the death of Michael Jackson
and pack of ‘ransom-
“Twenty fives”
They’re insatiable
like that hunger for the lollies
That lies between the purse and the trolleys
at lazy checkout lanes
at the supermarket
Overheard – “I did the world a favour, I did

Poverty

you might own acres of property
but if no-one loves you’
you’re living in poverty
you can have all the money in the world
fast cars and call girls
but if nobody loves you
you’re not free
you’re living in poverty

Getting There

Hey!
I know people who are ‘getting there’
with their brand new kitchens
their plasma televisions
their buns in the oven
living out the lives they imagined
the life they planned all those years ago
but where does it get you
in the end?
when you’re really gone

Yeah. I see them
chained in suburban bondage
slaves to the kids and the mortgage
always in a daze – exhausted
wondering how to divorce
form their present reality

Some people seem worried
about what’s in store for me
I didn’t make that choice you see
and when I turn Old and grey
who is going to look after me?
I don’t believe in that far ahead
just a day at a time
I might be soon be dead
so just one day at a time

Those choices made long ago
forced on me by circumstance
choices made for me really
just been following the script
playing my role
it’s got me to here
wherever here might be
developing my character
through trials and tribulations
the only thing is
there’s no standing ovations
no fans at the door asking for autographs
it’s a singular choice
a strange path – but really
it’s not for me
that other life.
Sunday wak June 28

Crisp
blue skies
taste the clarity of teh air as you breathe in
so cold you smell it in half frozen nostrils
sun still low
eleven in the monring
loking up at electricity pylons
their complexity
of knotted and tangeld wires
where they cross from the other street
and intersect in  spider web lattice
supported by porcelain kunuckles
the chit chat of Indian minors echoes
from the roof tops

A man slides by in a motorised buggy
like my dad had
an orange flag for visibility
flaps casually in the breeze
he wears a beanie to keep his head warm
a red flashing light signifies the rear of the vehicle
he goes shooting off down the footpath
creaking over the cracks

A tree besides the Freemasons retirement village
actually at the entrance way
its leaves are now completely golden,
nothing green at all
glowing in streams of midday sun

Poplars
their white pasty bodies
sprouting boughs and branches
and then smaller tentacles
that drip down in shrinking submission
thin reedy fingers
waving in the wind
bare of leaves as winter is approaching
The only trees with any clothes on
are the Eucalypts

turns come gliding in to land on the lake
their wings flapping furious
legs paddling in mid air and in the water
aiming for the central bread throwing position
be-ware of the swans
they’ll try to take it away from you

Rowing Instruciton

Stroke, stroke
not sure if this is coming from on board
or form the coach traveling along on dirt track
beside the lake
he tells them to rest
his nasal tones
emanating from a megaphone
echo and bounce off the water
to us on the other side
who are quietly going about our business
of circumanavigating the pond
all five kilometers of it

11 am city still shrouded in mist
not going to lift
how do aeroplanes navigate it?

the Basics of life?

Love Fear Anxiety Peace happiness sadness shelter company food money home entertainment care future past present a job

Grass
uncut
maple leaves are caught in it
sitting upright
vertical
in dying autumn brown

Trees along the road have superfine branches
which from a distance
give us the illusion
that they are out of focus
 -do not adjust your reality

SONG IDEA/ CONCEPT
- HOW DO YOU KNOW
how do you know that this person you’re about to meet
might be someone or something you want to hang out with
How do you know before you meet them?

How do you know if you’ve got he jog
b
how do you know

car turning right stretched across the road
turns the corner
he got tooted
makes me think of road rage

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Too many times Before © Paul J Penton 2009

I’ve been here before in a fancy restaurant
sittin’ cross the table hearing how you want
everything to work out right
but I’ve learned to read the signs
you’d better get – your story straight
’cause I can read between the lines

and I’ve been here too many times before
I’ve been here too many times
You tell me what’s in your heart
and I might speak my mind
I’ve been here too many times

Yeah, I’ve been here before So let’s not waste our time
You tell me your stories I’ll fill you in on mine
And pretty soon we might decide that this has got some legs
Other wise -Let’s call it quits
there’s always other dates

CHORUS

When I was younger I took it all for granted
Relationships they didn’t seem important
I’d love ‘em and leave ‘em lie and deceive em
now everything has changed
I’m a different man
Oh yes I am
‘Cause I’ve been here one too many times

Instrumental as Verse

and I can’t afford to waste my time on someone who don’t fit
my point of view on their debut
so let’s not pretend

CHORUS
I’ve been here many times before
I’ve been here too many times

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Date with Destiny © Paul J Penton 1994

I’ve got a date with Destiny.
I like her and she seems to like me.
Oh how happy we both could be.
I’ve got a date with Destiny

I’ve got a date with Deja Vu.
It’s like I know her from a long time ago.
Like I’ve seen her in a movie show.
I’ve got a date with Deja vu.

I had a date, with Dissapointment;
but she let me down, way too much.
I had a date, with Darkness;
but when the nightime came we couldn’t touch.

I’ve got a date with Diplomacy.
I’ve got to be careful of what I say.
In case I scare her away.
I’ve got a date with Diplomacy.

I had a date with Dissapointment;
but she let me down, way too much.
I had a date, with Darkness,
but when the nightime came we couldn’t touch.

I’ve got a date with Destiny.
I like her and she seems to like me.
Oh how happy we both can be.
I’ve got a date with Destiny.

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Just like Sunday                    © Paul J Penton March 2009

Lately he’s been dreamin’ about how its gonna be

Sometime in the future there’s a place down by the sea

Fishing’ off the pier, – with his new grandson

Been saving every dollar,  to realise his dream

Been Working at the factory since he was seventeen

Those stacks on the horizon they been a friend to him

Always banked that paycheck There was just enough left

Times were never hard or so it seemed

And that dream ain’t too far away

Where he can live without a care

And every day will be like Sunday

He can do whatever he wants

He can fix the fence

or walk the dogs

learn to dance

or Whittle logs

He can sit out on the porch

’cause every day will be like Sunday

He’s been building up a nest egg up there New York

Somewhere in Manhattan they’re working after dark

growing all his dollars with a million others

they never have a moment to talk

And some financial crisis been comin’ to a head

He hasn’t taken notice of what the papers said

He doesn’t know no-body up at AIG

his dollars keep on growin’ he can see it every day

and that dream’s so much closer now

nothing can stand in its way

and every day will be like Sunday

He can do whatever he wants

he can grow some plants

or brew some hops

He can write freelance

and go for walks

or just sit out on the porch

’cause every day will be like Sunday

He came home on Thursday night and was sorting through the mail

found a yellow envelope it looked just like a bill

as his finger slit the top of it , 

might as well  have been his throat

all that money he’d been building up

had gone

just like a puff of smoke

he didn’t want to believe it

how everything was gone

he didn’t want to let go of his dream

where every day will be like Sunday

He can do whatever he wants

He can fix the fence

He can walk the dogs

He could learn to dance

He can Whittle logs

He can sit out on the porch

’cause every day will be like Sunday

’cause every day will be like Sunday

’cause every day will be like Sunday

’cause every day will be like Sunday

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Another Perfect Morning © 2009 P J PENTON

Another Perfect Morning-Update 15 July> Lyrics -

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I wonder what he thinks
As I sit here and confess
And my sins drape over the man of cloth
Will my guilt be silent at last

I was acting like it was my younger days
She was like a flame that held my steady gaze
we ground away like a sack of empty skin and bones
and when we were done she was just some pound of flesh

I wonder what he thinks
As I sit here and confess
And my sins drape over the man of cloth
Will my guilt be silent at last

He’s the king of birth and death and marriage
He’s the one who sealed our right of passage
His soothing words made us feel encouraged
But things ain’t worked out right
In this holy marriage

I should be grateful for the way she’s stuck by me
I know sometimes I can’t be easy
But she’s the only one
I really care about
she’s got every right to be angry?

but when I called I got no answer
When I needed strength Jesus wasn’t there
I’m so sorry for all the  pain I caused her
And now I lay my guilt
Before the altar

I wonder what he thinks
As I sit here and confess
And my sins drape over the man of cloth
and my guilt be silent at last
and my guilt be silent at last
yes my guilt be silent at last

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If we had a Kombi © 1998 & 2009 Paul J Penton

If we could just get out of town
Feel the sun with the windows down
Hit high gear and catch a swirling breeze
Breathe in all those fresh green fields
Head out for the purple hills
And leave behind these city wannabes

the only thing that we’d need to do
is pick a  signpost and go
we could leave behind these city blues

If we had a Kombi
We wouldn’t have a problem
We’d be cookin’ on  an open fire By now
And if we had a Kombi
Everything would be fine
We could take to the open road
Any time we liked

Sailing down a sea of tar
We wouldn’t have t work so hard
no deadlines and no demands to meet
Think of all those red sunsets
The stars will be outr happiness
Out there in the bush ther’s no main street

[we could] build a fire cracks and spits
as we stare up at the endlessness
we might find the road that never ends

If we had a Kombi
We wouldn’t have a problem
We’d be cookin’ on  an open fire By now
And if we had a Kombi
Everything would be fine
We could take to the open road
Any time we liked

we could work on all  our dreams
we could just do anything

you and I we been around
you and I been up and down
you and I we been around
you and I been up and down

If we had a Kombi
We wouldn’t have a problem
We’d be cookin’ on  an open fire By now
And if we had a Kombi
Everything would be fine
We could take to the open road
Any time we liked

We could take to the open road
Any time we liked

We could take to the open road
Any time we liked

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Just One More    © 2008 Paul J Penton

Just one more drink, Then I’m gonna hit the road
Gonna Hitch it up,  get hauling this heavy load.
To a destination that I’ve never seen
Just one more drink, And I’ll be movin’ on

There’s just one kiss, resting like a butterfly
here on my cheek, As the miles go dragging by
When I get to where I’m going, I’m gonna telephone
There’s just one kiss, That’ll linger on
Across the miles and emptiness
In my mind I hear your voice
……..It comforts me
When I’m feeling at a loss as these miles go stretchin’ past
I touch the place where you last touched me

Just one more load, and I’ll be travelling
Babe I’m coming home, I’m gonna touch your face again
 Getting back to you, it’s the place where I belong
Just one more load, And I’ll be gone
Just one more load, And I’ll be comin’ home

Instrumental 4 bars

Just one more drink, then I’m gonna hit the road
Gonna hitch it up, and get hauling this heavy load
When I get to where I’m going, I’m gonna telephone
Just one more drink, And I’ll be gone
Just one more load, And I’ll be coming home
There’s just one kiss, that lingers on
Babe it’s just your kiss, that lingers on
Babe it’s just your kiss, that’s gonna bring me home

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