Numbers and digits, letters and figures, consistent lights from little bright screens. These were the life-lines and they were our anchors as we set out chart-less far out to sea. With as much regard for safety as was held for time-keeping, he hoisted sails, took pains to forget all he knew, while she continued dancing, ever twisting, ever laughing, with a penchant for pretending off into the blue. You see dear, the problem I've had all my life dear, is that I was off school when we were taught just how to tell and spend the time. And so dear, when I was gave this here wristwatch, I could only read off the compass, so I followed north, I never had time. And now, ship's sailed and sunken, sailors long-since are drunken. 'Least the fire on that fire-ship was earnest and true.

Muffled thunder, a red PANZER rolls and ponders, moles and wonders. Train surrenders, station's brighter, bench's an altar, hands on shoulders. One step closer: time has framed her. One step further: legs like paper. One two three four five six seven eight, it's like talking jive, filming on super eight. Oh it feels dead alive, it's just as if fate got trapped into a hive and was bitten on the head. Snores and slumbers, homeless flower, growing older, Larry's bitter. Sounds and laughter, a face passed over, tear up the waiver the morning after. Our embers shine and moulder, burn and glitter, sweet and sour. One step closer: time has framed her. One step further: legs like paper. One two three four five six seven eight, it's like talking jive, filming on super eight. Oh it feels dead alive, it's just as if fate got trapped into a hive and was bitten on the head.

In the air there's a shift, a change oh so swift, but it's casting my head adrift. I've bet my soul on the ROLL of a DICE. I've bet my soul on the roll of a dice. I don't want to walk back to the backyard - that's six hundred seventy eight thousand yards, only to find out it's a knacker's yard infested with rats and parading mice, infested with rats and parading mice. I stand by the grate and regret I was in that state, I forget the twist of fate. I'm such a daft get for buying bags of wedding rice, for buying bags of wedding rice. Tie me up to the rolling stock, push me down to the drydock, we'll sit for a while and take stock of all six sides of the dice, of all six sides of the dice. I don't think you should forgive me, for wearing my heart on my sleeve. I'll be quiet, be silent, believe in each and every side of the dice, in each and every side of the dice. In the air there's a shift, a change oh so swift, and it's casting my head adrift. I've bet my soul on the roll of a dice. I've bet my soul on the roll of a dice.

There's a PUPPET on my FINGER, dressed in black. It talks to me and whispers things like that: "Get yourself together, face the facts - them good days are over. Don't stay sat, you should just get hammered, smoke some crack. You know when you're knackered, the impact of all that makes you bitter is gone with the rats hiding in the corners, that can't be looked at. You're now half the feller that's she'd hatched. Start yourself all over, start from scratch. Borrow that red panzer, go and a sack a town that smells like her and don't look back. Steal a big screwdriver, fix some parts, stab your heart and liver, smash your face flat. She's a massive twister, there she shouts, attracts you to her centre, spits you out. Don't believe she'll bother search or scout for pieces or leftovers, you daft lout". So I chopped off my finger ("Keep it quiet!") like in the films I'd shown her on them nights, absent-mindedly shared, without foresight to look for some shelter from twilight. When it got much darker all at once, I had no clue whatsoever, like a ponce afraid to tread on flowers that would lance my lovely little feathers, my petty stance. I never had a chance, she never took the time to have more than a glance at what I had in mind. I'm left with empty hands, I forgot how to smile, and now she's built a fence between her and I. "You miserable fuck! Blame her all you can! You're the one who's stuck while she ran!" The puppet screams and mucks around with my THUMB, and I can't show no pluck - my head's gone numb. So I stole a big screwdriver, fixed some parts, stabbed my heart and liver, smashed me face flat.

I set my house on FIRE then sniffed the embers. My burning lack of DESIRE shaped into a lighter. I looked to the ground to admire the blackened matches. The joy I felt was dire: it tasted of ashes. I ROSE with the smoke and higher, drunk with the smell. Pulled back down to earth by a wire, like RAIN I fell. I set my lover on fire, my eyes filled with flashes. I stared as she expired, like with car crashes. I rose with the smoke and higher, drunk with the smell. Pulled back down to earth by a wire, like rain I fell. I chased her around the shire until I found her. I thought I'd cut the wire that tied us together. I rose with the smoke and higher, drunk with the smell. Pulled back down to earth by a wire, like rain I fell.

Seems like I made the wrong move, seems like it was the wrong time. And it all went too smooth, oh it happened in no time. So I rushed to the phone booth, dressed up like a mime. I fell and I broke my tooth when I tripped on your smile. Where should I go, right or left? What should I do with myself? I need some storage solution, a shelf. I stood up, dead confused, pretending not to be hurt. And you looked well amused as you wiped all the dust off my face. You refused to let me borrow your skirt for the times you abused of my favourite shirt. Where should I go, right or left? What should I do with myself? I need some storage solution, a shelf. Nail me to your wall, I'll make myself dead small and you won't hear me fall to the FLOOR and then CRAWL to your feet when you stand so tall. You won't hear as I fall for I've become so hollow, so when I hit the soil, it'll sound like a crashing sparrow. Please do not try to call, please do not try to follow, for I ran to the gallows pole the day you called me shallow. Where should I go, right or left? What should I do with myself? I need some storage solution, a shelf. Nail me to your wall, I'll make myself dead small and you won't hear me fall to the floor and then crawl to your feet when you stand so tall.

She's coming down the stairway. I'm dying to hear what it is she has to say. She's in a state of amused dismay but all I need to know is are you going to stay until Tuesday? Or Wednesday? She says she'd love to but she has to go back away. She tells me about her monastery, she says it lacked the mystery. She makes me feel like ordinary minstrelsy. Oh please won't you stay until Wednesday? Or Thursday? She says she'd love to but she has to go back away. I'm sailing on a drunken boat through the city. She passes me by but doesn't really see me. I grab her arm and ask her hastily whether she's leaving or if she's going to stay until Thursday, or Friday. She says she'd love to but she has to go back away.

In every move I'll ever make and every chance I'll ever take, you'll find a bit of your mistakes. And all those times you kept silent, behind the hand you sometimes lent, I wish I knew what you meant. I do not sing a song of blame, I'm trying to chase the bloody crane that's pecking at my brain, for there cannot be hate in a child who just cannot do shit but cry over the race of time. Time has crucified me, it stretched my arms a hundred, no, a million miles apart, and who do I die for? Oh childhood, come (back) and never go (again) the way you (already) did 12 years ago, this time we could take it slow. Sit on this swing and let me push your back and sing you songs and brush your hair before we both get crushed. Time has crucified me, it stretched my arms a thousand, no, a million miles apart, and who did I die for? "I've cut your strings and clipped your wings, I've sewn your eyes after I'd seen the hell I've put you in".

Matilda, Matilda, the moment I saw you, I forgot what I knew. Matilda, Matilda, oh lord, what have I done? I've crashed against the sun. We come and go like tragic waves and Matilda saves, know Matilda saves. We live and die and die again and Matilda drains our petty pains. Matilda, Matilda, I may be a fool and life may be just too cruel. Matilda, Matilda, I'm so far you can't seem to see how dark is my green. We rise and fall like instant suns but Matilda turns around and burns (on). We drink and smoke like fallen gods, then Matilda robs all of our sobs. Matilda, Matilda, I'm glad that I've met you, but do you remember me too? Matilda, Matilda, the sound of your trumpet tastes of sleeping tablets. Matilda, Matilda, next time you go a-waltzing, come by wherever I'm dwelling. Matilda, Matilda, this won't make any sense to you - please take no offense. We stab and kill with our mighty swords, and Matilda's words mean a million worlds to the dreary, to the sorry, to the weary, but I don't think she still remembers me.

I hope you understand this is my final stand: I won't sing no more, I won't knock on your door. Oh I knew it LOOMED, I knew we were doomed, and the DICE has ROLLED, and it's taken its toll. But we never made mistakes, we never had to fake any words we've said, any promises we've made. No fuel in the PANZER, no PUPPET on my FINGER, and my THUMB was stitched, doesn't even itch. I'll put out the FIRE, I'll have no DESIRE, and I'll CRAWL no more on your bedroom's FLOOR. We never made mistakes, we never had to fake any words we've said, any promises we've made, any tears we've shed, any drops of blood we've bled (shed). Say one word and I'll deny this whole world of mine for you. Say (just) one word and I'll break the chains, RISE again with the RAIN to you. I know you understood I was off for good: you won't write no more, you won't knock on me door. But we never made mistakes, we never made mistakes, we never made mistakes,...

Backstage at the circus. A Tramp clown and a Whiteface clown sit either side of a table corner. Tramp on the right and Whiteface on the left. There is one coffee cup and an ashtray on the table. The circus ringmaster and a cheering audience can be heard in the distance to the far left of the stage. Whiteface reads a newspaper. Tramp occupies himself by taking off his hat, dusting it and replacing it on his head. After some time Tramp takes a notepad and pen from inside his dirty overcoat and writes, "What time is it?" on a clean page and shows it to Whiteface. Whiteface peers over the top of his newspaper, looks at his bear wrist and replies, "Skin past bone". Turning the page Tramp writes, "What day is this?" to which Whiteface answers, "The day after yesterday and the day before tomorrow." Tramp looks nervously at Whiteface. "Where is he?" Tramp writes. Whiteface looks beneath the table and behind his chair and says to Tramp in a mocking manner, "Not here evidently!" Tramp sighs and puts his notepad and pen down on the table to the side of the coffee cup. Whiteface sighs and folds his newspaper down on the table to the side of the ashtray. "My dearest Tramp, must we dance in these endless circles with you two steps behind? He of whom you speak is gone, gone with the wind and better we are for it." With a flick of the wrist Whiteface straightens his newspaper and continues to read. "We are but too young, plenty more fish in the sea, he did nothing but hold us back and besides, we must concentrate our attentions on a glittering career." Silence. Whiteface plumps the flowers around his head. Tramp sighs, takes off his hat, dusts it and replaces it on his head. He writes, stares at what he has written and turns it towards the Tramp. It reads, "But we were in love." "Love!" Whiteface exclaims, "People do not love each other at our age, they please each other that is all. Later on when you are old and impotent you can love someone. At our age you just think you do, that's all it is." Tramp takes out a handkerchief and dabs his eyes for tears. "I hope he comes back for us" he writes. Whiteface smiles. Looking far into the distance he recites. "'But what is hope but the paint on the face of existence. The slightest touch of truth rubs it off and then we see what a hollow faced harlot wee have hold of.' You'd do well to remember that in our line of work Tramp." Tramp nods, dabs his eyes. Slowly and sadly writes a new note "He said we were the sweetest dream there's ever been." Whiteface scoffs and quotes, "At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet." Tramp stares at Whiteface and for the first time answers though in a weak voice, "At the touch of loss everyone becomes a Tramp." Whiteface stares at Tramp in amazement then plumps the flowers around his head. Tramp takes off his hat, dusts it and replaces it on his head.

You must know how grateful I was to receive your letter dated December twenty-ninth. To learn of my little nephew's first adventures in life brought me as much courage as it did joy. Children are so fearless and as they cannot help but be guided by nature, they seem to side-step doubt. As you know, with my darling Anna away attempting to state her curiosity for the unknown, I live moment to moment in wait of contact or some news that she will return. But as ever, realisation creeps as slow as shadows and the thought occurs to me that she will continue her days without so much as a backwards glance. But as your son serves to remind me, the young are beginners at everything and with only twenty-three years to my name, I cannot know love yet. I must resolve to endure my doubts and continue in my learning.

She gives birth and regrets as soon as we breathe. When the sun sets on our heads, she'll be relieved. She taught us to indulge in our blinding hate, but still they judge, but still they judge our state. No way to fathom the strife we're dying from. How did we come to this? Oh the life that we've missed. No good in our intents, our hearts oh so cold. We're malcontent, we're malcontent, tired and old. Surrounded by the stench of our own decay, the fists we clench, the fists we clench, got nothing to say. No way to fathom the strife we're dying from. How did we come to this? Oh the life that we've missed. She chases but enslaves her children so black, and how she craves, and how she craves, for the day they're back. I've tried to erase, I've tried to impeach. The dreams I've chased, the dreams I've chased, are out of reach. No way to fathom the strife we're dying from. How did we come to this? Oh the life that we've missed.

Like a careless child I drift upon waves of time. I lift my arms to the sky, I shift the way the sun shines. I'm swift. I don't know where we're off to, I don't need more than us two, no idea how we'll make it through. Mistakes, I've made a few. Mistakes I won't renew as long as I cling on to you. Time might take its toll on us. When in doubt, recall the pulse in our chests, our souls, our skulls, all the miles we crawled in the dust. A drunken boat has run aground, once was lost and then was found. The sailors stopped fucking around. Grab the nettle, take a pew, bite off all we can chew, wake up and wipe off the dew.

Flip the coin, watch me recoil as it hits the soil. I'll take my cue from you. Turn off the sun. You want to stun, then jump the gun. I'll take my cue from you. There's a million shades of grey, words left to say. Keep to yourself and remain deaf - I'll seek the cleft. I'll take my cue from you. Foresee plights, suffer in light of stillborn frights. I'll take my cue from you. Clouds, a million drops of rain, but we'll remain. Bright vermillion days might explain why we'll remain. You can quake at what's at stake, I will not shake. I won't take my cue from you. You can quake, I'll stay awake, and for your own sake, I won't take my cue from you.

My mates were running the playground. All we could do back then was sound, unaware of what was going on, living a life of happy delusion. When we were kids, we were strong, and now everything just feels wrong. Those were the days. My granddad helped me with crosswords. I miss him so bad since he left this world. When I was scared, my grandma held me tight. God, it's been already twenty years since she died. Back then I had no doubts at all, but who will hold me now that I'm drifting around without goals? Those were the days. Children name their parents kings and queens - when I found out the truth, I drowned in spleen. Since these days your pics slipped through my hands, I've been endlessly going around the bend. So I'll keep haunting the past and deny I've turned into an outcast. Those were the days.

My senses are mixed up, I need to be fixed, for when the flame licks my dreary old cheeks, it's a conjuring trick, the wrong end of the stick. I close my eyes and blink - just watch me sink. And I cannot keep track, I forgot the way back, I can hear my heart crack, it leaks, it's black. A sweet panic attack - without tears, it does lack all the fears, all the smacks. I might know the reason for troubled perception, for mashed up sensations, for dissipation. Lovely mutilation, comfort, contradiction beyond recognition - a sedition. I hear you with my eyes, wait for a thousand miles, I can smell every time the golden bell chimes. I touch your face and mime the sound of quicklime, the blossoming of rhymes.

How damn slow are the days and the nights, an endless flow of motionless time. I feel your glow but I can't use my eyes. The things I show - concealed, out of sight. Why won't anything just feel right though times ahead look so bright? What's just wrong with me? Where's my might? Don't mind the sound as I crawl - sleep tight. Clocks have fell from the sky every night, crushed our shells - we are now trapped in time. We're just like snails, without ears, arms like eyes, leaving trails as an excuse for sight. Why won't anything just feel right though times ahead look so bright? What's just wrong with me? Where's my might? Don't mind the sound as I crawl - sleep tight.

I don't really know for sure why, I don't really know when, but someday you'll stop rocking my my cradle and again, I'll drift far away with some tide to try and drown some pain. Then come and rescue me if you can. The stake's getting higher with each night you let me sleep by your side. I can't take the black fire that burns right inside and kills all forms of pride. I don't really know for sure what, I don't really know who, but some day you'll come across twats who'll tread on what we grew. I'll walk to the square where we sat and look very confused to check if you'll save me when I'm blue. The stake's getting higher now your warmth is what I need the most. I can't take my poor dire self. I hope you love to be loved by a clumsy ghost.

What is it this time that will set us ablaze? What is the crime that will make you give chase? Don't scratch the grime for fear of unveiling a maze. Judge without reserve, just sit on the bench, but will you serve? Smell the relieving stench. Strain every nerve to ignore all the flames I've quenched. I've indulged in carelessness, they said, there's nothing I haven't confessed, they said, I'm a source of little stress, they said, I am a bit of a mess, they said. Please don't search for skeleton keys. Wretched and distraught, there's some discrepancy between two thoughts, and the sycophants sing the words I've sought but could never find in me. A sad predicament when your life is an endless bereavement. So prone to second-guess. The past was sent for torturing restlessness. I've indulged in carelessness, they said, there's nothing I haven't confessed, they said, I'm a source of little stress, they said, I am a bit of a mess, they said. Have you found the skeleton key?

Hair she combs, hearts she bombs shall remain unknown. As she stares down the stairs, my fingers melt down. Fall apart as we part and change all the locks. Sunday night, lose the fight and hide in a box. Heard the news, tightened noose, I choked and I drowned. Stole her smiles, travelled miles - too late: they melt down. Now I must wipe the dust for summer's here soon. Hanging ropes, dangling hopes - a possible June.

Esme, I have bore witness to some strange wonders since leaving you my love, and I have known men as never before. I cannot begin to relate the experiences that no lay behind me as they still reach far beyond my comprehension, though I can tell you that I remain forever uninspired by the intentions of men. But though my heart grieves for an innocence now lost, I find some solace in the wisdom that time and fate have allowed. Esme, from this distance I am able to think of you with the warmest appreciation. I recall stolen moments sweet with your breath and hazed by faithful whispers of resilient love. These moments are strengthened and gilded by the passing of days, and your refined image follows my troubled steps as I continue on this path. You are as rare a bird on this earth as the black swan and just as water rolls from your feathers, you remind me that to be in this world without becoming attached to it is a far great achievement. And so I will continue.