I can’t call it what it is
My genetics haven’t earned that yet
I don’t know what you’d call it then
Maybe we ain’t gotta call it anything
Cos even without a name it’s marks made clear
The apprehension that colours the bar
As a Walkers crisps ash haired beauty comes through
Clashing teeth on her fraying wool
That’s just like a darling like you
I guess?
But I can’t help but feel you’ll make a mug of me
The blame for that rests a million miles from you
I don’t even need to think much about the one responsible
You can find her like an aging marble of Magdalene
Surrounded by eggshells of her own creation
Stuck on a menacing grin
All her declarations are interchangeable
All her loves are replaceable
That’s when affection loses it’s value
That’s when defection loses it’s weight
But without a source of verification
Who’s gonna verify that outside of the two of us?
Who’s gonna babysit the love that blooms?
I’ve been beaten down to the state of an infant
Burning any bridge I called my own
For a 1/100 odds of a pacifying narrative
Cos freedom isn’t the sobering conclusion it once were
Like a spatula on sunburn, it’s agony
How’s a spade a spade in a world like this?
How’s anyone chatting honestly under surveillance?
You hide the rouge tinted mitts behind your back
None of this is your handiwork you reiterate
I don’t see anyone else with the keys to my coat
If anxiety is the excuser of all malice
Then boy are WE all fucked!
Sebastian Noël