by Michael Martin
to tell it true we'd say
we don't know what it is
we're nowhere near the end of.
Sure, we've skipped a bit of rope in the day
had the steak served up rare
and bloody on occasion
and once been fed at the oar
and can blow out all the candles
on the first try.
We know how to fall
for a smile and build a person out of it
and when pissed off just pack
up the bongos and go home
and whenever smitten know to inch
the drapes close to each other
as the coming night is likely to blab about anything.
Then this guy steps off the train.
He's looking around for something to polaroid.
So we walk up to him
and just start pointing all over the place.
