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Mar 2020
Goodbye cruel world
take away my soul.
I wanna go home
this sunny day,
a rock and roll refugee.

The silent reproach
your favourite disguise.
Put through the shredder
in perfect isolation.

Swollen hand blues,
fat and psychopathic.
No drugs to calm me.
Tight as a tourniquet,
a warm thrill of confusion
coming through in waves.

Itchy feet and fading smiles
put me in the firing line.
Toys in the attic
fill the empty spaces -
a snapshot in a surrogate band.

Is there anybody out there,
in this brave new world?
No dark sarcasm hid behind
some mad ******'s wall?

Time to go.
A poem made from a lyric from every song on Pink Floyd's The Wall.
Hope Roger doesn't mind...
Written by
Andy Hewitt  52/M/Manchester, England
(52/M/Manchester, England)   
478
   AS
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