Blues

de Geordie Greep

You’re all grown up
You have your own stove
And your own pair of oven gloves
You have arrangements and assignations
You keep up appearances and have a reputation
You sit in the park and work on your sonnets
You talk about yourself in the past tense
You have opinions that can’t be shaken
And morals firm

Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean?
Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean?
Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean?
Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean
Is your favourite turn of phrase
You know what I mean, you know what I mean
You know what I mean, you know what I mean
Is your second favourite turn of phrase

You can speak English better than anyone
And you can curse like no one ever has done
And you have a bigger dick than any man who’s ever lived
And you can cum more than a hundred stallions
In a room that smells of cigarettes and carrion
Under sheets freezing cold with damp
You voyage far and wide across plain and ocean
Steppe and marsh on celestial bridges
And knock down doors and climb in windows
And listen in, listen, listen, listen, listen, listen, listen, listen

Can you hear that?
The signs of life?
Not yet awake?
The stirring, the screwing up of eyes?

A blanket that forms mountains
The valley between knee and cheek
The steep slide down to the feet
The toe poking out, be careful, don’t touch!
Have discipline, my boy, just watch, stay outside, stay outside
In the cold
Can you feel it, you can feel it, you can feel it
See? There’s a universe in this room
You scrounger of toilets and pillager of tombs
You don’t have to work because working is for schmucks
You know God will light your way
You are ready to admit to murder, to assault
To robbery, to pederasty, to fraud
You are ready to take the blame for every crime of all men
But the jury is out to lunch

You imagine the roaming camera that captures your melancholy
You walk the streets that stink of disease
You turn up your collar like James Dean
You put your right hand under your jacket
And pretend you have a gun
You put your left hand under your jacket
And pretend you’re Napoleon
You squeeze your spots till they bleed
You turn your face so no one sees
Do beggars still play accordions?
You should pay one to follow you around and play your theme

Soon your nails will sing
Soon your earrings will ring
Soon your organs will grow little mouths
And speak for themselves
Soon your body will stage a civil war
Soon your heart will burst out free
And soon it will look you in the face and ask
What have you done?
Why have you led it astray?
Soon your brain will migrate
Soon your balls self-castrate, your feet will scuttle off
Your hands will fly away
Soon your eyes will glue themselves shut
Soon your legs refuse to hold you up
So embarrassed to bear your name
Your body will vanish out of shame

The first step is acceptance
Admit you have no idea what you are doing
Admit you have no name and no ambition
Admit that you sleepwalk through life
Admit that you sleep only sleepless nights
Admit your best dreams involve being carried
That spirit that enters your room
Those arms that envelop poor you!
That carry you away
In those arms you escape, you dissolve through clouds
London shrinks as you leave it behind
London turns to a model village
And now you are one with yourself
You are finally proud
Admit that you’ve tried to cry and can’t
Admit to yourself, no one else cares
There’s no jury present, there’s no reporters
There’s no examination, it's only you

Soon you’ll disappear
Soon you won’t be here
Soon you’ll have all the time in the world
Soon your lips will unwrap
Soon your lips will expand
You’ll pull them apart, up over your head
Soon you’ll be inside out
Soon your veins will spring off
Soon they’ll spread out for miles
Soon your veins will transport trains all over the world
Soon your veins will be a railroad
Soon your mind will extract itself
And very soon you’ll disappear, soon you’ll disappear
You’ll be fine, just relax
Soon you’ll disappear
That’s the only fact

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