Fuchsia I hear the public toilets are closed you make faces when you clean the sand out from between your toes boxing crosses boundaries so does fighting with your shadow
Young sap scrapping in the middle of the square quare ones feast their beads until they are partially full yellow blinds are drawn kitchen knives are melted down into coins and there is one for every member of the rabble.
Loneliness is part of living I shall run from it no more your attitude is unforgiving and when I sneer you seem to like me more drinking in the milk of the sun lying in a thirsty ditch nose bleeds are all you need when you're dying of embarrassment I've had my fill of miracles of miracles I've had my fill.
Fractured tiles falling to the earth the workman in workman's clothes he's had his fill so fling him into the back of the taxi driver memories tacked on wardrobe door exalting some ecstatic claim that on such nights as nights like these we lent our lights to sacred flame.
Loneliness is part of living I shall hide from it no more your attitude is unforgiving and when I sneer you seem to like me more drinking in the milk of the yellow sun lying in a thirsty ditch nose bleeds are all you need when you're dying of embarrassment I've had my fill of miracles of miracles I've had my fill I've had my fill of miracles of miracles I've had my fill.
