King One Trick

Sitting around waiting for the town to calm down, a hundred years passed / taking it’s time. Stood up in the busiest place alone, old brain has seen this all before, The grey fades, the grey shines.

Like the sound goes south on speakers blown, a mess blurred fuzz wound down and gone, The fastest always seemed to finish first, it was me the slowest one, the never one.

The night ended up in a fight outside with a guy and a pint glass – the smell of the street was still in my nose next day, next morning. Sun up Blood up.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s