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Shazaam is a wee thing by a chap in a little city. I'm a killer for a good song a bottle of Vodka and a chaise longue.
Bar scenes dimly lit like charcoal on red print. White noise, slip off my stool. Rows of teeth chattering like deaths heads. Laughing. Broken glass, voices and pretty faces. Vows, vices and cunning natures. Bloody Mary; an immaculate conception. She soothes me, sends me down again. Sweating hands on slippery backsides. Carpet's stained airport green. My jacket's wet, the arm is wet. A Chorus of angels in my ears; "Another one sir?" No sir here. Tatty self-portrait, rotting frame hung askew. Connection to Blue. Toilet bowl prosaic graffitti scratchings. 'You will know me.' Feels like a swimming pool, smells like something else. Mirror doesn't look so good, must be the chlorine in my eyes. Something in the water here? Back stool-side. I've spent hours perfecting this, invested hundreds. Night after night. Upright passage from A to B, B to A, to R. Neon beer taps comfort me, night-lights in a child's wall. Hair's getting messier, standing to attention. Damn that electrical charge. Someone tries a conversation but I've got gobstoppers in my head, and a disconnected mouth. Vocal cords cut umbilical, torn flags flapping in the wind. No country left to fly for. I like it when you talk to me, though do you mind if I don't say a thing?
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CD: Songs For A Broken Home
Credits: W.D.Thomas |
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CD: Hibernation, Rejuvination.
Credits: W.D.Thomas |
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