Baby ghost soaking in the gutter Didn’t bother finding shelter from the storm Now he stews in a foul brew Living nothing but regret. Flags dance fitfully in the breeze The sky wheezes, coughs and sneezes The gloom soaks deep into the concrete Violates and saturates the lazy streets It tugs on everybody’s coats As they scurry along And annoys everybody to the very dregs. What good are anyone’s words if they Will not stand up too deffend them? But again, a facts a fact. At least I assume it is. I assume the books I read are true I assume my eyes see whats really there. I don’t try to be right Even though I often am. Say what you want But do what you must Its all a tangle Interwoven with nightmares. “Theres no sign of the rest of him Over here. I’ll go look this way now And meet you by the Museum Of Human Failures and the Library Of Lies at around bed time. They then went their seperate ways. Each then met their own seperate catastrophe And they none of them saw one another Ever again.