Corridors I'm too familiar with,
And will beg on my life in dreams to
     Keep away from
The fingers of fear poke & ***** at my skin,
& Follow,
Follow up deserted streets &
Over steel & iron gates &
Under concrete arched bridges &
I'm too bored to sleep,
Yet my eye twitches;
The need to gather up every empty whiskey bottle
& Every lost and stolen piece of nonsense
Nonsense
For the first time i want to go home,
Because no-one's home
And I'm getting so tired of
Running on empty