The quiet sadness of the people of the North |
| Echoes silently around the cold grey places |
| Ecstasies undared |
| Tremble upon the edge of the tightly, respectably unfulfilled |
| Who drink to excess in order to forget what never happened |
| Brave faces |
| Well dressed ordered minds on suicide's edge |
| Reflected in the rain-skimmed slate grey, battleship grey, hardship grey |
And further South, and homeless |
| Here I am |
| Globally altered and dishevelled |
| Oh darling, I've done it all |
| An antithesis of sorts |
| And yet bound together and hopelessly in love |
| With the inevitable loss |
| And the end |
| How can we run from ourselves? |