There's no use in you complaining
that this Party's not entertaining,
that my writing
is what they wrap
the night in
to bury on a moor.

No mate, or
I'm going to burn up on re-entry
because that crap craft that they lent me
is full of wild dreams we deleted and girls
who'll never meet me in real life.

If on the flipside
there's a riptide
where the tide is racing in
you'd better learn to swim
or vote for me.