Like a clown, walking down past the hotel room his red-nosed cigarette alight. The lobbyist winks, he recognises me.
Tap tap I'm leaving. Tap tap.
The train with swollen hearts departs this thawing furnace. In the corner is the clown; Comfied round his wearied eyes and weary pride. Playing with her number like a child with a toy, wondering,
will the embers suffice? To decoy and employ our tangled kisses and nibbles and bites through the nights. Or get soaked up in depravity and a bottle of gin? Excluded in the watered down reality of the phone.
The clown remains without a clue, Are you thinking about me? I'm thinking about you