Evocative,
lingering,
cold,
happy on the outside and charming,
but, unfeeling in your skin,
oh, how you stare at me,
from the newspaper so off puttingly,
and how you stare at me so evocatively,
how you stare at me,
as the rain runs down the window pain,
and sunlight comes through the grey clouds,
and although I feel tired,
so, tired inside and full of winter,
I wish summer would arrive and would rapidly begin,
but there you are in the newspaper upon the table,
in a story that makes you look good,
yes, there you are, helping the poor yet again,
helping the poor with a big smile upon your face,
trying with your fake airs and graces,
trying to befriend the people in a publicity stunt,
whilst your investments in weaponry,
are killing people in a one-sided war,
a war that only you can win,
and how massively you profit, from the weapons sales,
as you do such great work for charity,
oh, this cynical world that we live in,
and oh, how I cannot bear your sickening grin,
how I cannot bear it as you,
staring up from the newspaper in black and white,
look so evocatively like someone who cares,
whilst I sit outdoors drinking gin,
drinking gin,
with my mind meandering,
with my mind meandering,
and upon my face a massive grin,
a massive grin as the clouds blow by,
and as I sit with my mind foggy and groggy,
I try to get a hold of my thoughts,
I try to get a fix on them,
I try to make sense of my life,
I try but the gin is fogging up my mind,
in the light of these antediluvian times,
and my thoughts,
they are like shattered pieces of a mirror,
and I cannot seem to put them together,
looking at you for you are rather off-putting,
and I sit staring at you,
in a temporary moment of insanity whilst drinking gin,
and this weather,
this weather is truly wearing thin,
so, outside I sit in the cold drinking gin,
and I am cold on the outside but warm on the in,
and here I am,
sat here looking at you, until I can take it no more,
and I throw the newspaper in the bin,
and I return to my friends,
and we talk of life and of reality and decency,
and we all share good humour and decency,
of which I am grateful for,
and how we enjoy ourselves despite the cold,
as we sit in the cold drinking gin,
and as you are alone,
you on the newspaper,
you warmongering thing, you are where you should be,
you are where you should be,
which rightly so, is in the bin.
