these trains lie, almost silent rusting with intent, but were not oblvious to the threatening rumble, as we descend like fleas from a mongrel, our frightened feet fly over the cracked paving stone, and the sun gives up and evening comes on, like a murderous uncle, clutching a pillow but whispering "it's ok i promise, i won't hurt you" and as nephews we close our eyes for the last time

harmonic empathy, synchronised nostalgia but somehow a bit more desperate that that, less graceful, we've been friends for years we smiled, and shed our ears to the sound of devils and broken children, cracked stones and broken glass frame us like a photograph, in a cctv set up and we're just hoping that no-one's watching us fall apart, everything rests amorphically, spreading her legs and thinking of anyone, but she is cagey, with crossed legs, save us from what we are, just take us home at the end of the day, she can not oblige and will be left here, if you want these dreams i'll burn, i used to have it all but no, when i was going, back to the trains, they'll drag us all by our hair, the original sanctuary is nostalgia

i love you,i love you,i love you,i love you,i love you,i love you,i love you,i love you,i love you,i love you,i love you

find that special place i've shown, the timing slips, here, i can't find, where is here, the famous will probably discover it, with me, signed press, i've got nine ways out to discover it, i'm part of her now, as the vicious spread up her legs, to her knees, hips and heart

i feel like my eyes don't work, because these people look different to yesterday, which stands as a statue to how it should be, none of this was a lie like it should have been, everything bad is true, we are asking to much of ourselves, as walking become running becomes stumbling, and the signs point all down hill through the cracks back to the trains, back to the trains, back to the trains

<disconnect>