What A Glorious Affair

A bird call,
to a penny fall.
Everything sets you off,
and I have happier places to be.

& Oh, the things you will do.
When your mind is absent,
and you conscience hasn’t a clue.

Fingers always on the move,
there’s an itch to be found.
Muffled words seep through a lock-jaw,
speak up son, what did you say?

& Oh, what a glorious affair.
When did fashion become a hole in your lung,
and vomit in your hair?


~ by Jake Wilcocks on July 23, 2011.

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