I see young old skin
Fearing to feel
Paint wearing thin
Truth in a ring-pull

Deliberate distraction does what it must to retract us from us
But none of this has stuck

The privileged pretend, the poor attend
And stringed ones will strive for their view of amends

So shoot off their judge wig as fast as they send it
Use humour to poke, laugh like a blanket

Lie between the meadow and the edge
And wink at clowns with the mask of death...