Skomer
God knows what you do
You fumigate the room
With the french cigarettes that you smoke
And assume
It’s fuelling the thing, that he tries not to feel
He knows it’s not real
Because he’s come
Close to the truth
In late afternoons
Drinking whiskey and water, for years in his youth
And you tried your hardest
But not hard enough
And you’re looking rough
You’re fading away
A year and a day
Spent looking for something that she only craves
Come for the rest
And resting assured
She sleeps on the beach
Her back to the shore
Sure of herself
And making it known
She’s king of the castle that she only knows
And no one can find
While, I look for mine
