memory has it wrong - I loved you when you loved me and then we were done/There's a silence on the railway, there's a bad curse on the land and this season writes a rainstorm like a poem in the sand/You told me I depressed you, that I withered in your hand and that sentence cut my loveline when you left me as you planned/In travel, there are traps when I'm writing in the back, beneath the rain, between the maps/My diary bears this out but memory has it wrong - I loved you when you loved me and then we were gone/In travel, there are traps when I'm writing in the back AMONGST THE BOOKS, AN ANGEL (Words - GA Johnson) Amongst the books, an angel I've not met and time hasn't touched her yet/From A to M to Z she swans, as if avoiding bed/Pigtails instead of wings/I strung her harp with my heart strings/And I would ask this Spring for her if I knew what the right words were ANGEL PIE (Words - GA Johnson) There's angel pie in the oven and everything is ok, it's alright/The point at which the seasons pass each other on the way out, way in/'A Confederate General From Big Sur' sat in my lap like a happy cat/I can sleep and read at the same time and day and night are just words/I can live in the hills with my simple thrills, racing clouds into town, if I like A RETURN