|
Hunting spires |
|
And an audience in the house of God |
|
Such strange times |
|
Pull me from my knees, genuflect and leave |
|
Braving the weather, evading the stares |
|
Save it for someone who cares |
|
City life |
|
In the glory of pink communal skies |
|
Jostled bones |
|
Hang in dying air breathed a million times |
|
Down through the marching of beggars and heirs |
|
Save it for someone who cares |
|
We are the cats in the flea bitten folds |
|
We will collapse with the weight of it all |
|
Should we attack |
|
Or be caught unawares |
|
Save it for someone who cares |
|
We get by |
|
Swilling with the taste of the now and then |
|
As we type |
|
All our problems we will relive again |
|
Echoes of violence, and office affairs |
|
Save it for someone who cares |
