Twenty-two days since I’ve seen the sun
I don’t have time to arrange my views
Things happen quickly so I don’t remember
you know my name but it’s a pile of glasnost
The way you draw yourself up through the song
Giving in to the sick side of sensation
A parody of love when it was half a mantel
Garbled light illuminates a gallows of sorts
And I hear myself speaking in the voice of Mao
‘Something frightening lurks in the song of birds’