Magic Blue Box

Written by More Or Les
Leslie Seaforth (SOCAN)

VERSE ONE:
It wasn't my
fault – I set the navigation perfectly
to take us back from Pangaea, hundred thousand B.C.E,
to Shoreditch London, Twenty-Third of November, Nineteen-Sixty-Three,
and not the desolate future planet where we were actually stranded.
When we landed I blamed it on the mercury filled fluid links.
So complicated, Twentieth-Century humans didn't know who to think
was more to blame for bad directions: me or the machine.
Traveling through Time and Space, and places in between
Is recondite, sophisticated, convoluted business.
Especially wit a decommissioned capsule lacking the fitness
to make trips as planned. Plus, I'm only one man,
running a ship that needs a crew of six pilots to command.
And I don't mean companions; I prefer to do the flying. I mean
dematerialization. Automation's not compliant. I've seen
the greatest computers malfunction and break.
That's why Time Lords made them sentient. The biggest mistake
is letting them have any kinda’ say in all the decisions you make.
You know, you wanna’ get to Sheffield, Nineteen-Seventy-Nine. Of course
you end up in the Eighteen-Seventy-Nine Scottish Moors. Or forever
lost trying to get to Heathrow Airport to sort your
gobby Aussie friend out wit her job. Navigating the
vortex to Vegas Eighty-Three shouldn't be hard, but there you
are in a Russian sub, HADS is on, TARDIS gone,
Warrior from Mars unthawed – you don't even get to play the slots!

CHORUS (2 x’s):
Vanished quickly, so you don't believe what you saw.
Sounding creaky, like a car that needs some new shocks.
And run by this guy who's sillier than you thought.
It's just a madman and his magic blue box.

VERSE TWO:
Can't a Time Lord catch a break? After I had to regenerate,
I tested ship fitness - thought I'd be two minutes Was a
few years late by mistake – twelve to be exact.
I came back, the whole world was at stake, thanks to
giant morphing snake and over-eager space cops.
A little girl was grown up by the time I showed up faced lots
of distrust, and it sucked, but Earth needed savin'.
Just a hiccup that glitched up the chronal navigation
Is how I came late. No debate that coordinates
for space sometimes get messed up. Yes, I can fess up
that South Croydon, UK is nowhere next to Aberdeen.
Just a slight inaccuracy, considering the Galaxy,
alone, okay. The planet Zeta Minor in the future
instead of Seventy-Five, London is the kinda' mistake that suits a
bumbling oaf. What I mean though, is I don't make that kinda error.
What I mean, is hardly ever. Well, at least for a guy who regenerates.

CHORUS (2 x’s)

© Leslie Seaforth 2013.