Far too many cigarettes,
stubbed out in my face.
Far too many insects,
flying about this place.
Far to many spiders,
spinning in my head.
Far too many hours spent,
inside this baking room.
Far too many brain cells dead,
I’m in that zombie mood.
I got to get out.
Far too many locks and bolts,
securing my front door.
Lost my keys,
I lost my keys,
I can’t get out no more.
I get down on my hand and knees,
scrabble under chairs,
beneath a pile of maggots I,
find my hammer there.
The one I use to crack the backs
of roaches on the wall,
I use it now on the window pain
to get me out of hell.
I’m standing in the garden when
It begins to bloody rain
Far too many dustbin lids,
playing in the street.
Far too many bloody kids,
suffering in the heat.
Far too many vehicles,
driving far too fast.
Far too many earfuls,
as I’m walking past.
Far too many domestic scenes,
of easy married grief.
Far too many people on,
Far too many streets.
Far too many on this world,
as it spins around.
A lonely, cold and helpless rock,
sinking without sound.
The whole entire universe
locked up in a box -
No wonder it’s so hot.
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