Slow Graffiti

There's a portrait

In a back room,

Which I keep for days upon, which I relent

And gaze for hours on the muscle skin and bone of some

Imaginary friend.



So how about it?

Show me please how I will look in twenty years

And let me please,

Interpret history in every line and scar that's painted

There in front of me.



It doesn't matter what I'm thinking

What I tell myself to do

I'll end up calling.



I stay in to defrost the fridge

Now the kid has gone to bed

A feeling of dread.

At least when she's around the troubles there,

It's worse to wake up with her falling round the room.



Listen Johnny; you're like a mother

To the girl you've fallen for,

And you're still falling.



Listen Johnny;

You're like a mother to the girl you've fallen for,

And you're still falling,

And if they come tonight

You'll roll up tight and take whatever's coming to you next.


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