A Set Square and a Pen.
The fire, it started spilling onto the trousers on my legs. There was a spark of recognition, so I got out of there.
And to my relief the street was deep with darkness bare
so accommodating and whispers of sleepers sleeping in air-conditioned rooms.
Me, I pulled my hood down and ran then, away from the smoke that loomed
but everything felt different from what I had assumed
the walls, the stairs, gutter, asphalt, even my signature tune
and each person I encountered, turned into fume.
Then I bumped into a lawyer who appeared to lack self-confidence
I said “(I’m dreadfully sorry but) there is nothing I can do for you
(that) you can’t do just as well.â€
He said “Oh, yes you might, just stay on my side, I think that that would helpâ€
So I stayed with him till morning and then I enquired how he felt.
He said, “I think I’m better. No, really, I’m convinced
that I shall be okay for the next few days. Thank you, my friend.â€
Well, that’s how I caught up with the facts: everyone's an island, yes,
or an ice berg, if you will, and no one can ever stay
as the tide comes in and leaves again, we all drift away
but, some nights, when you resign to darkness, someone else might seek it out to hide.
And if you lose your paperclips, Becky, and every sheet and to-do-list should form a giant wave
don’t worry, I will stand by you and together we will sink or swim
and we’ll keep running through dark streets though we know we won’t escape
the logic of Murphy’s Law and that of gravity
but if the night could remain within the frame of space we offered it to take
then I think it’d stunt our lungs and we’d constantly guard our newly-fixed sense of proportions
with a set square and a pen.
Cheers,
straycat.
P.S.: This is the orginial, and quite representative of what I love about the artist's style in general: http://youtu.be/XUym7n7fJTQ

