PUT ANOTHER LOG ON THE TV

Talking gets harder each day:

Smokeless zones and telephones

Have killed the conversation

Now our lies, laughs, truth and tears

Have all been swallowed whole

By another monster

In another shiny console

Rocking-horse to rocking-chair

And somewhere in between

The fireplace has become a flickering screen

Glowering at the world

Insisting on silence as it reward

Granddad spat in the fire;

I spit in your face;

Old lies die hard.