I don't know what I'm thinking In the purple And the black And the perfect figure I don't trust; I don't believe a word you say Picture postcard tale of a wind swept cafe Here with the tea scalding me through Singeing my skin And singing Singing in the drizzle And the pigeons And the sinister Wreckage of amusements long gone How are you taking this? Skin warm through fabric Moistening... Nettles stinging above our heads Lay me down my coat as a blanket I'm not sure what you think of me now And the wine red and white flushing on and off like blood Flowing under the skin And the noise of it all clamouring in my ears I clench my teeth around cigarettes and a duvet that is Not my own