Anya

They say up your game, always take your chance, shuffle the remains, listen to this muted song, who would ever lance, the need to belong, watching the rain, snake down a naked path, can’t be bothered to sail, aboard crowded bars, cargo ships to shining France, rooms with dark marks, red lips white faced, cigarettes and the dance, waiting to slip again, here we just bumble along, flying by our pants, hope we’re not wrong, before the rivers of Spain, polish unlit lamps, kindness waiting, get treated like tramps