The greying tower
Lines massive, baggy-eye windows
Streets of a slum
Point to it, dumbly, like arrows
It speaks of futures
Lived out in fear with death close at hand
Overgrowth neutered
A warning, blatant, the skyline jammed
It’s crip pled and blind
But it’s act is a mime
Which says: “Look here first
This building hates us”
The timid tones
Fake chat and ditties, rotating
Down windy halls
Cracked sheeting screeches as breath goes in
Gases of food
(Past, present, absent and formerly)
Seep, cell to cell
Down stairwell, needle-lined, normally
The taillights of Earth
Seem faint from this perch
As we live out this curse
This building hates us
The crew of a tiny camcorder crowds around one doorway where a resident is pointing at his leg
Buried in here is the nozzle of a pressurised paint gun, he says
“It’s never coming out! I am transformed. I have created a new being out of old.”
I’ve been quite a Don Juan
Led man and woman on
My heyday, downed with a belch
I gave my cash to pinstripe thieves
And my partners in delinquency
All of them as damaged as my self
Like a shaman sent from hell
I led the dance, I chanted spells
And down on all disaster did rain
Oh but now they beat upon my door
I say go where there is no cure
But back they come, every single day
No rite will mark
Birth, growing, pairing, spawning, death
Nor lying down
A mid the grime of years will stone suggest
Hold tight, hold tight
To your digital twitch and scrape
They got you good
So now let’s see you try going straight
Oh no don’t be like that or the bossman won’t invite us back
Oh no don’t be like that or the impresario won’t clap
Watch them dance on gallows trees, burn the birdies, burst the bees
Feed her whisky ’til she’s senile, ask if you can buy a missile
Oh no no don’t be like that or the bossman won’t invite us back
Oh please watch my hat, paint my walls and windows black
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