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
