Blood on the rocks
Fire in the sky
A crack in the cloud where the misshapen moon is
Alone again or
A piece of the whole
Following home from the beat of the music

You live for the city
Die for the city
Where the bourgeoisie are a pink sea of humans
Positioned above
Evading the fog
A great white animal everywhere, breathing

Wringing the cracks out of the fingers
Folding them back into the murky water
Pinching the flesh free from the bruising
Pondering on this life and how we use it
Or abuse it

Timber and tide
Creep through the night
A slow black crawl from the sleeping sirens
Modesty wrapped
Till we do the collapse
A bitter retreat into the heat of pleasure

Wringing the cracks out of the fingers
Folding them back into the murky water
Pinching the flesh free from the bruising
Pondering on this life and how we use it
Or abuse it

There may be more, there may be more
But at the side of the road
You'll find a ghost
Evading the call
Of tortured voices