Bread and wine

Another on the evolution table

Like bread to the world wrapped in last weeks paper

like wine to the pope soaked in two pound batter

walking aloud with concrete soles.

sleep'in side a dead mans cold.

Born a neon 'made to please'

the drug stick lies 'there to ease'

Can't you feel its smile'n eyes? Its beady impression weighs me down

with all these matches laying bout not a safe one can be found.

I would preach to my neighbour but he's just as dead,

with my legs sown to this mattress and my hands nailed to my head.

There would be a spite, I'd  remember, or when I whored it from the dark,

of burning rain, the fallen game, or the scream'n man in the park.

But my boy crush it with a snigger and I would pretend not to figure,

that my paper bag of salvation has not saved me,

nor the mutterings of mad men have not waved me,

x'cept the noise of her hair as the stale wind plays with

the smell of her smile as the winter wall shames with.

The madness of her beauty

the madness of her beauty.

So the dream of the shopping list will never be revealed

nor the desires of the plastic bag will never be fore filled.

For I sleep with an apple that can't be eaten

for I wake with an apple that can't be beaten.

x'cept the light of the gutter as the tall boy plays with

the bickering stutter as the trench horse frays with

Full of worms they say

full of worms we pray.

For the lamb has paid its beginning dues

and the slaughter of the house shall be the news,

Like wine to the pope soaked in two pound batter

like bread to the world wrapped in last weeks paper.