MIchael Wojas. My Friend. 1957-2010. RIP

Michael
In a green green room there’s a green green man
and he rocks and he rocks then he rocks some more
he sways and he rocks as the green ship sails
through the green green seas and the tar black floor

the floor starts to rise as the anchor is tossed and
the boards start to creak with the souls of the lost
and the crew calls out and the ghosts call back
“Our hearts are green and our lungs are black
We’re sailing to the Colony, We’re sailing to the Colony ”

On a tall green chair our captain sits
shivering his timbers in his dark glasses
and he smokes as he watches and he drinks with the fish
and he ticks off our names on his passenger list

“there’s cunty and cunty, and old cunty’s been in
and she needs a shave or a brand new skin.
“And he’s not long for this dear old world
Time to settle up dear like a good old girl.”

On a torn green chair there’s a thin green man
and he rocks and he rocks then he rocks some more
and he sways and he rocks as the green ship sails
through the green green seas and the tar black floor

and the crew start to sing and the ghosts join in
and the ship sails on through the nicotine fog
it’s man overboard as the old girl roars
and the glasses fly across the Ouija board

and the floor starts to rise and the board starts to creek
and the ship sets sail from old Dean Street
the girls start to cackle the men start to swear
and powder their noses in the you know where?

We’re going to the Colony, we’re sailing to the Colony

And it’s man overboard as the old girl soars
Above the luckless, fuckless Dean Street whores
He smokes as he watches and he drinks with the fish
and he welcomes you home and he kisses your lips
And you know when he does he means it
And you know when he does he means it

We’re going to the Colony Room, we’re sailing in the Colony Room

Through the green green door up the green green stairs
There’s a place for the ones who never said their prayers
Muriel, Ian, Michael – your ship will always be there. XXX