Saturday, 13 February 2010

wet wig dreaming

I hear the floorboards creaking
stuttering beneath my shoes
with candles flickering
lovers bickering
I am the kings cross muse

Another night of dancing
inside, away from rains
suburban boys
get cheap shot joys
that slowly melt their brains

My wig is sweat soaked dripping
my voice the morning blues
I've earned my shilling
now sleep god willing
I am the kings cross muse