People hate to see you pulling a mood out of a Mardi Gras
But we got plenty of reason to be miserable these days
If you were to view love as a utility
Well this is it ain’t it?
The heroin shot in between your shifts tonight
As he tells you he’s to collect your favourite brand of wine
That little kick you need to get through a domesticated night
A means to an end in the end, yeah I suppose
Is there much to living life clean though?
Cos that’s the hand I got
Another price hike on the bills, another redundancy notice
But you got a safety net
It’s the bath he runs you to cush the blow
With the bombs and rose petals to tease the eyes
As he leaves you to yourself for an hour or two
You don’t love him sure, but you can’t argue against this
Just as well cos he may not love you too
But the smug duty of a man feels so right to him
Is there much to living life honestly?
Cos that’s the hand I got
Sebastian Noël
Domestic Poetry 