by First Line

A hundred angels

Another dream of “normal” life,

At a trash ‘n’ treasure market,

At the end of a life spent in utter pride

burn away the wool from the head

Casting a street light shadow,

Ensconced in the images.

even though I have Joy Division at top volume

First was the birth, of course,

From a box of old photos

how do we rule?

I am a thing / not a thing

I want to build a café,

I’m shifting the furniture of my mind,

I’m writing this because the doctor told me to.

in this binary world

it is all the fall

it was wednesday

I’ve heard them sing of a sacred chord,

once I bought a box of matches

sometimes it’s necessary to mess with (reality)

somewhere in the chaos are

The devil is in the detail,

the dr. prescribes the latest pills

The first candle she lit was for Grandad.

The phonies are taking over,

Under years of dust, at the back of the garage,

we all have a bird within us

we were Paris –

What else is there but love?

What if they came up with a pill,

When I last spoke to Cocteau

Years rust like dreams.

you stung my tongue