Pile up rubbish
By the front door
Head over to the salon
Pour a drink, a ticking clock, a cannonball
Our laughs are one's of jackals
Spiking through some wintry night
Our new arms stretching ever, ever outward
It never fades, ringing out, even at dawn
I bought a dream with an ADMISSION SLIP
Hell, I bought it twice
Now I will go to the depths
I am told, there is warmth, cleaner air, softer light.