ŞARKI SÖZÜ
A spider wanders aimlessly within the warmth of a shadow
Not the regal creature of border caves
But the poor, misguided directionless
Familiar of some obscure Scottish poet
The mist crawls from the canal
Like some primordial phantom of romance
To curl, under a cascade of neon pollen
While I sit tied to the phone like an expectant father
Your carnation will rot in a vase
2) Lost Weekend
A train sleeps in a siding
The driver guzzles another can of lager
To wash away the memories of a Friday night down at the club
She was a wallflower at sixteen
She'll be a wallflower at thirty four
Her mother called her beautiful
