Anya Four

The one of you we knew, used to play it short, rage at winter’s Blues, in this consumer light, you return without a phone, not very wise, nothing gives us a clue, no print or written law, if your trail’s well used, did we know your plight, or try to stop you go, with your cards so slight, we’ll never be cool, that beats to others' tones, hard to make the rules, what we know of you, wouldn't let us condone, stuff that’s hard to do, now you’re back home.

Anya Three

Blew flame across my tears, shared jokes in the dust, then she disappears, I know the jail, a blanket for our trust, where love never fails, what brought you here, in the lilac dusk, a woman once so clear, ice blue as the rails, a player till she's bust, absorbed in all her ways, no one could get near, a spark that never shuts, I swallowed all my fears, haunts me like I failed, I did what I could, danced on broken plates, stored away the years, her perfume is like musk, her charm a laughing beer, someone you could trust.

Anya Two

They say up your game, leave other stuff to chance, shuffle the remains, listen to some wounded song, time could never lance, find a need to belong, watching the rain, sheet down a broken path, this is how we fail, noisy crowds and throngs, butterflies and elephants, ridden by sneering narks, red lips and white lace, cigarettes tremble and laugh, time shows its other face, here we just bumble along, flying by our pants, hope to right some wrong, a drink my hands shaking, shuffle by unlit lamps, kindness passes unabated, stomach full of cramp.

Anya

Since you've been away, we don't know what to do, but each night pray, to break the anvil stone, say it’s ready for you, everyone hates you gone, to sleep this time of day, hear you sing the blues, we’ve nothing more to say, said you had to go, to stamp out the fool, head a bag of marbles, our lives have turned grey, Gin won’t be your ruin, nor your smoking phase, confined within your roam, you've little need of truth, but we want you home, beat our wings in praise, see the creep of moon, new horizons are great, let them have their due.

Chris Three

I paint like Bernardo alone, walk with a weary gait, feel my shoes worn, bring cognac to my table, napkins folded on a plate, feed my ravenous frame, no picture to look upon, swaying like a knave, wanting my work done, unshaven waiters, in winter cafes, sometimes call my name, women before me clamp, buttered hair on trains, say it makes them Glam, paintings are what I crave, museums have a lonely gaze, on short uncertain forays, they shine beneath a lamp, they could be my fame, this small room my last, to forge my name.

Sophie Three

Living here's no paradise, it never makes the news, this place doesn't splice, it could be great, stars and sea like perfume, stardust on our plate, all we need's a better life, show what we can do, maybe a wages hike, our songs still resonate, a feeling without the Blues, won't find a better rate, this barrio is our smile, all it holds is true, naked without lights, it is there to create, makes us sing anew, we won’t hesitate, to ditch these bitter rights, where we stick like glue, even the way we cry, stays within the loop.

Sophie Two

You appear stoned, your picture up in lights, or written on the wall, if love holds true, knows which bells to strike, it’s because they love you, tell me you're not lonely, no matter how we fight, or beat our yellow bones, they call you Miss Fortune, pretty before your time, they don’t see your blues, the screams down a ‘phone, dreaming of paradise, a flame not at home, your big talented hue, that passes out of sight, when rain is due, clouds ride black and bold, across the winter sky, you sing less to fold, than fend off time.