Itchy Bum
Itchy Bum money to come, it’s alright for some, itchy bum.
Itchy Bum money to come, it’s alright for some, itchy bum.
I think I’ve got worms
I think I’ve got worms.
Itchy Bum money to come, it’s alright for some, itchy bum.
Itchy Bum money in Kimberly Drive, they’re in my bum and they’re in my eyes.
Itchy, itchy.
I haven’t half got an itchy bum. 
I think I’ve got worms
That’s better

Itchy Bum (Money to Come)

Written, performed and produced by Laurence Wilson

Solid News

Smoke 

Lazy, smoking my spliff, listen to a riff by...
the late great Jimi Hendrix.
Waiting for a social benefit to arrive.

Hazy
Smoking my cone, listen to the tone from...
A murdered John Lennon.
Waiting for a number seven bus to go by.

Nobody needs nobody, everybody needs somebody,
Nobody knows the answers,
 to life and love and living in the Universe
And of course, of course,
It is so absurd, have you heard, 
that the chosen words, has been disturbed.

Nobody needs nobody, nobody needs somebody
Nobody knows the answers, lately.

Well, I've got a trumpet, blow it, blow it.
I've got a trumpet, I bought it today.
Well, I've got a trumpet, blow it, blow it.
I've got a trumpet; it'll blow you away.

Crazy, smoking my bong, listen to a song by....
A long-lost Syd Barrett.
Drinking in the claret of his wine. 

Words and music by Laurence Wilson
All instruments and vocals, Laurence Wilson.

Smoke

Song from my Subculture Musical. The vampire-like AI finally meets its match. Killed by a shard from the ancient vinyl single of My Generation.

Written, produced and performed by Laurence Wilson.

Revolution (The Death of A.I.)

Written, produced and performed by Laurence Wilson.
Began life as a poem, the improvised in one take on guitar. Eventually turned into this production.

Petty Coat Lane

Psychedelic song, with backwards guitars.

Written, produced and performed by Laurence Wilson

The Bright Garden

Comedy rock song about being a space cake.

Written, produced and performed by Laurence Wilson

I'm a space cake
I'm a freaky fuck
I'm really hazy
I'm a sitting duck
For a space invader
to drop a bomb on me
Probably way a ton and make a pancake out of me
Flower Power, Flower Power
Give me pot cakes, 
fluffy and brown
Give me hash cakes
lovely and round
Smoke a joint man 
Down to the roach
Get on the grass coach, gonna see Pink Floyd
Flower Power, Flower Power
I'm a psychedelic relic, from before my time
Roll over Mr Rotten
Flower Power's doing just fine
Don't want no rap man
Talking's for the flicks,
Don't want no - we ar we ar we ar we ar
That shit's for pricks
Give me wah wah
Funky and loud
Give me a bass line
Declining to the ground
Flower, Power, Flower Power

Pass the joint Bob, Pass the joint Bob
Boulder burns, boulder burns 
Pass the joint Bob, Pass the joint Bob
Boulder burns, boulder burns 
Pass the joint Bob, Pass the joint Bob
Boulder burns, boulder burns 
Pass the joint Bob, Pass the joint Bob
Boulder burns, boulder burns

Space Cake/Pass the Joint Bob

Human Race (New Version)

Written and Produced by Laurence Wilson.
All instruments and vocal by Laurence Wilson

Problem???

Two songs put together.

Written, produced and performed by Laurence Wilson and Karl Webb

Trying To Sound Like The Beatles/Catch A Tiger (6).WAV

Written, produced and performed by Laurence Wilson

Jessica Automatic

Vacate To Your Dream

Power People

Written, produced and performed by Laurence Wilson.

A Cold Wind Blows

Written, Produced and Performed by Laurence Wilson

The Goth Punk Chunk

Tuesday

Written, produced and Performed by Laurence Wilson

Television Man (Do you think I'm crazy?)

Produced and performed by Laurence Wilson

House Of The Rising Sun (Traditional)

I stand at the end of Sedition Row, 
Watching the kids smoking their blow, 
music blasts out from their phones,
takes them away to the ASBO zones.

The bar at the back is full of straights, 
Who perpetually arrive too late, 
and they hate each other’s
sisters and brothers, fathers and mothers, significant others.

On Sedition Row the street cleaner screams, 
a penny for his thoughts, a fiver for his dreams,
There's a knife in his heart from way back when
he fought and died with other men.

The garbled messages on the walls, 
often drink the bouncing balls, 
that the scab knee girls throw back and forth,
watch them bounce south then north.

And here's the mayor of all things kitsch.
His fingers itch to unzip his zip. 
His split lip bleeds fountains of blood,
He says welcome to the neighbourhood.

Sleep under the bridge that lost its trains,
or in the doorway where you lose your brains.
It doesn’t really matter where you go.
Everybody’s happy in Sedition Row.
Everybody’s happy in Sedition Row
Row row, row row.

On Sedition row the street light flicker,
The cats are fast but the rats are quicker.
The matchstick girl ignites her plan,
Watch it burn on Instagram.

The armchair judge nudges the clerk,
there’s a shark on his plate but no bite in his bark.
He silenced the jury an age ago, 
When he brushed them under the carpets of Sedition Row.

The ragged choir have swallowed their voices,
The paperboy dictates their choices,
And the moistened eyes of Cinderella,
Drip from the balcony into the cellar.

The drunken bum thumbs his book.
His handbag dog hangs from a hook.
He tips me a wink when the lights are low,
Says welcome to Sedition Row.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah,oh, wah, wah, wah, wah.

Live out of the pockets of a threadbare suit
No bullets in your guns and nothing to shoot.
There’s only one thing that you need to know.
Everyone’s a winner in Sedition Row.
Everyone’s a winner in Sedition Row.
Row row, row row.

Everyone’s a winner in Sedition Row.
Everyone’s a winner in Sedition Row.
Row row, row row.

Everyone’s a winner in Sedition Row.
Everyone’s a winner in Sedition Row.

Row row, row row.

Everyone’s a winner in Sedition Row.
Everyone’s a winner in Sedition Row.

Row row, row row.

Sedition Row by Laurence Wilson
Produced and performed by Laurence Wilson

Sedition Row

Sedition Row (Finished)

Written, Produced and Recorded by Laurence Wilson

Sun Moon

Instrumental.
Written, produced and performed by Laurence Wilson

A Box Of Terrible Lizards

Sunshine Is A Dream

This is my alter ego Atom Rot airing his thoughts on the age old problem of who was the better Doctor Who... Jon Pertwee or Tom Baker? 

Who was the Best Doctor... Jon Pertwee or Tom Baker?

This is The Rutles Cheese and Onions song, written by Neil Innes, aka Nasty/McQuiggley .

I love The Rutles, and this is one of many I've learned up on me git.

Cheese And Onions (Cover of The Rutles)

SONG FOR BRITAIN

	What does the future hold for Britain?
What does the future hold for you?
What does the future hold for Britain?
In the 1980’s it was sniffing glue!

	(Thatcher) I foresee an endless sea of teenagers, washed up against the backs of the shops, with a Fine Fare bag full of glue, strapped to their faces!  

:	What does the future hold for Britain?
What’s in it for the likes of me?
What does the future hold for Britain?
In the 1960’s it was LSD!

	(Wilson) I foresee my trousers, blooming with flowery paisley-like patterns, which are one with the breathing, heaving carpet, whose crumbs, are tantalizingly close to telling me the secrets of snails.

:	What does the future hold for Britain?
What does the future hold for that bloke?
What does the future hold for Britain?
In the noughties it was snorting coke!

	(Blair) I foresee the middleclass backbone of this fine democracy, crumbling, along with its nose, and who will be left to tut over the front page of The Times in Tunbridge Wells then my friends?

	What does the future hold for Britain?
	Is the future one of complacency? 
	What does the future hold for Britain?
	In the 90’s it was Ecstasy.

	(Major) I foresee a generation of Britons talking shit, whilst stroking elongated chins, to the sound of a car alarm masquerading as music. 

		What does the future hold for Britain?
		What does the future hold for our home?
		What does the future hold for Britain?
		In this decade with no name it is methodrone.

:	(Brown) I foresee lots of young people dropping dead, but later their graves will sprout healthy trees and plants but that will be of little compensation to those left behind.

		Britannia’s snortin up politicians through a nine bob note.
		She’s a teeny tiny volcano with a bad case of the bloat.
		If she’s not careful she’s going to end up on the jack.
		And then the bitch will suffer one major mother of a heart attack
Heart attack, heart attack, I feel like, you feel like, we feel like, there’s a knife in our back.

		What does the future hold for Britain?
		What does the future hold for you?
		What does the future hold for Britain?
		What does the future hold for you?

This song was in my stage-play Tiny Volcanoes.

Tiny Volcanoes Soundtrack

Song for Britain

This is a song I wrote just after my big sister Rachel died. I idolized her all my life, she was my best friend, and even my next door neighbour.

The Steven in the song, was her husband, they divorced and when he died, she died two weeks later, she certainly had a broken heart, because she still loved him.

It's a tough song for me to sing as it pushes my vocal limits and there is always a part I struggle to reach. 

Rachel, we called her Rachel.
Rachel, Steven and Rachel

I feel so tired.
I feel so much pain.
Just want you to know.
I'm lost again.
Just want you to know.
You're tattooed on my brain.
Just want you to know.
Life will never be the same.
And I'll never understand what you were thinking.
And I'll never understand your pain.
For these are the ways of the needle.
And it'll suck you out and suck you back in again.

Rachel, we called her Rachel.
Rachel, Steven and Rachel.

Rachel Jones

Flaming is a song written by Syd Barrett for Pink Floyd. This is my cover version of it using an 8 track studio.
Vocals, drum beat, electric guitars, keyboard, bass ad malarkey by Laurence Wilson.

FLAMING (Pink Floyd Cover)

Author of the plays Urban Legend, Lost Monsters and Blackberry Trout Face, Published by Oberon Modern Plays. Singer - Songwriter, igniter of lighter fluid, in the lucid dark, where Sebastian Bach larks around with insane sounds and pounds of cloud.

Laurence Wilson

Pinned to spotlight

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