Monday, 5 February 2018

Cynthia Street

Incidentally miserable
As he half cuts down
Cynthia Street
In the way to
back from
To the way to
back from
The smell is gasoline
And the look is neat
But the matches are on strike
Down Cynthia Street
Delirium down the
Comedy pub night
But fate reinstates
That he’s not laughing, like
It’s tarmac skied
He’s pie-eyed foot of fleet
But no-one will steal his thunder
Down on Cynthia Street
And sympathetic bones
Are lacking meat
And distant barks
Snarl determined feet
He’s thinking, here’s to
Another neet
Street drinking
Down on
Cynthia Street

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