Lucidly, your spite...
Cares avid enough to share:
Shift like the sands of a pipe
Flirt, with the whole eye; to stare...

Misery, I see your salvation
In a heat, a whetted appetite
Is minus, a callous intimation?
Save a respect, the time to invent insight?

A demand of virtue
Guards and doors
Floors and pardon's, have a clue
Since we are so sore...

I have saved a pretty many, also...
Wishes nobody made, without another kiss
Of life, with a burden in a causes soul
Requited with surreality, we own their vices...

The thief of salvation?
Risen, ready, and raging jungles, to hope:
A tarrying pipe, don't sin...
When it is for the asking, like a calling to something besides the end of a rope...

(Scene: A funeral service, at the graveside. Two mourners talking to one another)

Duncan died then, so he finally gave up his goose.

< (disapprovingly) Gave up his ghost not his goose! >

Tis sad, very sad.

< Aye, maybe twas for the best, I heard he'd been sufferin'... He's gone to a better land now. >

(Looking at him amazed, having not heard properly) He what ! He's gone where!! He's gone to the Netherlands!!!

< He's gone to a better land!  a better land!! A better place!!! For fecks sake! >

(A lone Piper starts to play a lament by the graveside)

(after a few moments listening) I love the sound of the poops. A lone **** in the wind....He's a fine wee pooper that lad.

< He's a Piper not a Pooper!
(under his breath) Only Pooper around here is you. (smiles to himself thinking) A Super Pooper. (smiles even more) A Super Duper Pooper. >

Y'know he was quite a pooper himself in his day, was Duncan. I can still remember his pooping well. A Prize Pooper was Duncan, his pooping was often the talk of the town.

< (sadly & dreamily) Well, no more will his...his poops be heard around the Glens. Only silence now and the wind....o'er the heather, the fields and the crags. >

I'm not a bad pooper myself y'know.

< (smiles)  I bet ye are. >

< (thinks to himself) But the heather will bloom again, and the children, they'll play in the meadows.>

The pipes are knocking in the walls; groaning and dying.
You roll to the other side of the bed.
I roll out of bed and put a *** on.
The lights outside are strewn in no particular order and just on the door;
as if to say 'we tried'.
We try until the pipes burst.
We try until the coffee runs out.

I let skynet tell me the news brief and sit here.
I could be studying a way out of here.
But I don't go in until after noon.
I make another cup of coffee.
Listen to Teagan and Sara.
Look at ways to **** time...

The pipes haven't burst yet, but they're still knocking in the walls.

Here alone i stand
My feet are torn upon this land
Where my heart will meet
And with this hand I will beat

I have my white rock
Under my roof i will lock
The pipe is busted now
Oh hey there's that lighter i found

There's the path that leads
Bits and pieces that i need
To survive this night
I will be the thing that frights

Knock at my door
Maybe I'll get some more
No, men are storming in
Ask to sign with no pen

All I've got is blood
And this one diamond stud
It will be the last
It will be a thing of the past