The Slough - Eleventh He Reaches London

I dreamt I was

In a ward of maternity

And planned my life ahead

And the child was completely fucked

And you stayed buried in

Embracing hibernation

In one way or another

You’re pregnant with a cost

Of regret

With building families

With men like me around the child so

Lest, we forget

All the symbolistic images of virgin births we pray are true

I’ve got hands around my neck

And I’m socially expected

To lead a child to excellence

Oh lest, we forget

All the broken homes with absent dads, who wanted more then turned around and

said

How’s my girl?

How’s my girl?

How’s the girl I’ve left to raise this child alone

How’s my girl?

How’s my girl?

How’s my girl who lays in rapture with her child

So let’s take a dagger to my heart and my wrist

I’m miserable and the world should see me die

So let’s take a pillow and press it on my face

I’m exhausted and the world should see me sleep

So let’s take a dagger to my heart and my wrist

Oh I’m miserable and the world should see me die

There’s the good fight

And a black hole

Of a birth right

That my god stole

There’s his rapture shaking hands, with his guilt he’ll always know