The leather speaks
In the middle of a streetside diving unit
And it seems
I've turned my back on what the truth is
Can I fault the beat of slurred speech
Seeping out towards the music
When my dreams
Consign a new ways to be lucid
You show your teeth
With a little bit of bite, to curb your fuming
Writing creed
As a worry-heavy wolf inside the margins
And I stop the clock like God
Locking your hand to mine and crooning
Something sweet
On the merit of a french exit-esque movement
And it's all I see
I can't deny the way it seems
The ritualistic third degree
The kitsch, the heat
Another body in the street
I'm on my knees again
Talking as a TV friend
Can't stop running round
Hang hyper-cardinal crowns
Fix my initial point and
Draw back into
Can't leave on my own
Habit always takes me home
You're full of severed thought, you
Are less than enthused