Winter (Stabbed by a Dagger)

Blood drips from the ceiling
Lightning cracks the sky
Nick Knowles is on TV again
I wish that I could die

I heard they dragged the paddling pool
They haven't found her yet
John Noakes is walking around the town
but where in hell is Shep?

It's going to be a long cold dirty winter
Crack open the Prozac and the sandbags
and sloe gin for low profile living
Let's not go outside again till spring

The wind blew off my beard last week
and gave me an unwanted quiff
Some punk stopped me in the street
as he wanted his picture taken with
one fifth of (the prodigiously untalented) One Direction
I decided to end it there and then
but they put me on a section

The long icy fingers of winter
tighten their grip on my soul
I've been hospitalised by hailstones
and literally blinded by snow
Imprisoned by fog, I sit in my front room
Play melancholy tunes on my contrabassoon
It doesn't matter if there's a demon at the door
or if trains steam out of the fireplace
or if I spend my nights growling at the moon

B.R. 29/01/2014

 

Time Transfixed (La Durée poignardée, 1938) by René Magritte