I’m pretty lost.
No, strike that, there’s nothing picturesque about my abject failure to find my way: I’m fucked.
Nothing can save me now.
You’d think that having dragged me’sen from the murky depths and this crimson tide with merely a heart heavier than my trousers and soggy shoes, I’d be pleased. Neigh, ex-fucking-static to be alive, but I’m not. Believe me, I’d rather be dead. Yep, you heard it here first, folks: I WOULD RATHER HAVE WORMS UNDULATING THEIR WAY THROUGH MY ORBITS, THAN BE YOUR SLIMY FOOL.
Hey ho, can’t win ’em all. Luck of the draw, they say. Pulled the wrong ticket. Oh did I? I was right at the back of the queue when they were dishing out four-leaved clovers. I got you.
I got you, babe. And it’s never gonna end, this helter skelter hell. Not ever. Not when the last breath leaves my lips and my parting shot is: “Why?”. Not even then. You’ll just smile that not so secret smile, pull one shoulder up to your unhearing ear and place your hand on my head. Holding me under.
And still my heart will beat for you. Cant stop the night.
Can’t stop this ride either. No one is ever getting off. Not me, not you and not Silly Sally who sits in the swinging car next to me, alone. All adoring-eyed and clasped-handed, reeking of that fairground attraction that you sell so well. Stinks like five-day-old fish to me. Putrid, like your sinister tides and black hearts: your path to hell.
Step right up, step right up, don’t be shy! They all float down here… and my, don’t they do it well? So well, that you might just make us stay. In fact, I’m pretty sure of it. Tut, there I go again, over-abusing the adjectives. Lovely, red, pretty, sweet lips. Kiss me. Kiss me now, or forever hold your breath. Here comes the summer, son.
I’m really careful these days, I have to be. Never know what’s around the corner – or the bend. Never know which twist in the road fate waits for you on. Chance doesn’t just happen. I GOT YOU.
And for that, I am eternally damned.
One, two; buckle my shoe,. Three, four; knock at the door.
I can hear you, but I won’t let you in. Not ever. If only you needed an invitation…
Welcome to Wondreland – said no one ever, without wanting your soul.