As the clock hit twelve, they came in
The poets whistle and hum a seducing tune
We'd sloom to the guns choking the highway
Or the flooding of limerence burying us
As the clock hit twelve, they passed on
The shifting lights from the odd passing car
Gives a prim reflection of us pulling our weight
Peaking over the farthest stretch of earth
For our last slim moments thoughts thicken
Great homesickness that cannot be shaken off
Begins to sink in with the stolidness
As we hover over the horizon
With our backs arched against angst