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Hell breaks loose
I've had my day of glory

Paranoid, hypocrite in white jeans
Bleeding dentures in a zip-lock bag

Think of the home, of the home that you've broken
Throw your lungs open, in hoping they're open
Cinching the ides, cinching the ides
Children in high-vis, and cancer survivors

Cigar marks
Sobbing strangers fucking in car parks
Scarred tar stacked higher
Than Marvin Gaye's question marks

Warm wounds kissed clean
For baby's ashes in the apple carts
But will it take a butcher's knife?
To know that we're all in love?

Let's be pleased with it
Your lies in bad jeans, bad genes
Turncoat lizard
Wide smile and bright teeth

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