Anticipation, expectations,
Inspire this dictation,
I’m hanging by a thread,
It’s tight but it won’t snap,
I should find me some foundations,
Stretch a net across to the station,
Eat a spoonful of ambivalence,
It’ll catch me should I forget my cap
People look at it from all angles,
But decisions, options strangle,
All can see the carpenter’s dead,
But there’s no footprints to and fro,
The longer that he lays there,
The less the sense remains here,
He fell into the fetal position,
And yet retained his chapeau
The affair began by the streetlights,
Like snow she was dressed in all white,
They sauntered through the cobbled streets,
Excusing it as living in the now,
But now it changes to then,
And then fails us time and again,
The stars in this globe won’t hold,
When the clock turns it over like a plough
