We always want tomorrow So never live today And that's the curse of our lives We wish our lives away With time, the faint horizon Comes clearer by the day For some, it's far too soon Whilst others cannot wait And all men need distraction And some men need their gods For without these diversions Then everything is lost In life, we carve the land up That is not ours to carve We cannot take it with us But cut the greater half And herein lies the problem And herein the blame You enter life with nothing You leave it with the same FRENCH MITTENS (Words - GA Johnson) England's dreaming, Winter absent/I take my books back, change my accent/First in the library/You queue up behind me, frost-bitten in French mittens/Take care on the corner/Sliding on white grass/I catch up with your shadow but you're walking too fast THE FUN OF THE CENTURY (Words - Jen Adam) Could it be that you drove me into your fleet of hand-melt candy?/Could it be that you sent me falling off the roof backwards, gently?/Do not let my words depress you - I'm here to uplift you now (I'm here to uplift you now)/Her eyes have gone south - terrible lies she denies/Could it be that you broke me into a sheet of rain swept sideways?/Could it be that you wrote me a dead attempt?/It just plain scares me/Do not let my words distract you from all the fun you demand - from