breezeblocks and bricks, viewed through nicotine stained slits.

lets go see our brothers and sisters, in a dead end cul de sac.

pass along waitlong street, where once upon time we used to meet.

we can pretend that we dont have to go back,

 

lines of lights and refracted reflections, continue our journey now in seperate directions.

 

ragtime piano verses, lost time flowered hearses,

churchyard gates moulding black, plaques carrying long lost inscriptions.

the doctor,the vicar and an unlicensed physician,

carry the weight of this great mathematician,

from the council ground to his little plot of sacred ground,

 

lines of fights and refracted responsibilities, can we continue on our journey, in a foward direction.

 

baseball caps and stripes reclaim there place,

see me face to face what did you want to say?

huddled together like penguins at the pole,

emporer emporer can i have a little soul?

twenty five yards down the road and they find there voices again,

a chirping and tweeting mass, social security office clash.