The man in the crowd with the multicoloured mirrors
On his hobnail boots
Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy
Working overtime
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the National Trust

The signal to noise ratio has, of late, grown distractingly closer to indivisble. Little piggies, and little dogs - They plague my every step, baying at my heels and snapping as they circle in the shadows.

The sun is dawning on a new year - I'm back in my hometown, and nothing's changed. The samed tired children are still begging for release. The same poisons are plaguing our minds, our hearts,

I don't know what I'm trying to say. I just feel like I have to say something.

we called him mother superior on account of the length of his habit. but he got out. he didn't get clean, but he at the very least polished himself up as best he could and hid the dirty needles better. got a job. Got together.

She was fine till I touched her. She got it under her skin - it got inside her head. it wasn't me, it was the chemicals that did the damage - which was a first, i must say. usually the chems take the edge away from the ragged haze I leave them in. I don't try to hurt anyone.

i just don't think I can love anyone.

where do i go from here? the money's coming... the sun's rising. I've only been back a fortnight and already I want to run away as fast as I can.

gotta blow town. can't slow down, can't let the dust gather on my boots. keep moving keep breathing just keep your head above water it'll all be okay

it's all gonna be okay dammit