J.

So I'm sat here writing a country song,
Sitting on my blue bird yawn
And cannons in the halls
rain down in breaches
of people telling me
To go left at the junction.

Ghosts of people
Who I neither like nor need to regret,
Kill me with bullets made of paper and
People to whom I owe a debt.
Next verse,

Fading, like a fading.
Weddings like makeup
Worn by clowns in breeches.
Everyone's witches
Hollering me.

Lying in the beating of an alarm clock,
We never look beyond repetition,
Second hands leap to reach the
minute they'll seduce when they pass.
In contrition.

She's a steady hand in a bad news candle
That always paints you as a vandal.
You're a spray-paint memory,
On a viaduct.

Heading to covers in a cover,
Being original,
The ladies gave light to nothing
Flying to and flying fro,
Spending time
Sinking her life,
Into my bones.

Deaf night gives way to daylight,
Like drainpipes draining
And letting goof spaces.

It's always coal on Bankside that sells.
I can't make my mind blacken
in the shrubery.

You're my moment,
My chance to survive the future
That stands before me,
To dodge the seconds,
Like mortality dodges me.
I'm alive, and billions of people are not -
People I could have fallen for,
Or laughed with.
Or lovers she forgot.

I'm sat here writing a country song,
Sitting on my blue bird yawn
And cannons in the halls
rain down in breaches
of people telling me
To go left at the junction.

You're a dancer that can't leave till I'm ready.
Stay there, I own you - you can't disappear,
You only get to

ump two lines and lose your first letter when I choose,
I choose that you make it below.

J.