lawrence of arcadia

i have just realised my mind has been asleep

my past lives in a mausoleum

i sell postcards of spain outside the gpo to remind us of sunlight in winter

it's a thankless job but poetic tendencies just will not pay in my mind

on these scorched streets

i praise the gods

i open my mouth

and see what heaven sends

i am calling all the bards in

to illuminate me now

and if i lean towards the trigger you say

you can't kid a kidder