Thursday, November 22, 2007

The business of me and them.

You fucking savage,
you arsehole,
you bastard.
You carry that scar,
like it's a goddamn silver badge,
a membership key,
and what are we?

Ushers and attendants,
opening the door,
allowing you entry.
Paying the price
of your admission.

And in the dark,
will you change?
Will you pay attention,
as the curtains open,
and thrust into the light,
my fear,
naked on the Fucking stage?

I don't know, I say,
I'm here for The Show,
the dance and the song.
So, pour me a drink,
and let it must on.

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