Oh I know I don't own you. but I don't even know if I should phone you. Someone's sending me letters. saying you've been going with other fellers.. . And babe.
On the last night on earth when the horses run free. The scriptures foretell of a party in Hackney. In a dimly lit room crammed with loathing and hate.
I fell asleep on your sofa,. and had a dream about a small child,. in dungarees,. who caught his hands in the doors of the Paris metro.. Then my face cracked open and you were there,.