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I snitched on you to God
I told Him you swore, I told Him you spat on the floor
He was not best pleased!
We chatted shit about you for over an hour (in eternal, higher time,
which is absolutely ages)
When I got back home, when I
descended
Satan’s vanguard were sat around my house waiting
eating butties
An alarm is an unholy racket
Shouldering through space to grab
That ancient panic stirring in your holy ribcage
Usually reserved for private flights of fancy
Our lucid mortality laid bare
embarrassed scowls of peril.
Probably just a drill isn’t it
Yeah testing it aren’t they
Why do I have to go through this gate
Because the machine wants you to go through this gate
There’s three fellas who’ve been awake for ages
They’ve formed a Utopian island state in one of their ponds called
Frogspawn
I am exiled by slumber.
Lying in the doorways of months gone by
clutching can in hand
agony etched on face
first sip incoming
passers by indifferent
Those froggy fellas! Why I oughta!
