Of Slang Kings and Squid Lords

Those days now black and white shadows

Darkness and light reflect on the long crystal pool

As grainy celluloid vibrates spastic, defying digital’s high definition

Hold this memory in a mason jar

Spirit best preserved this way

Sweet sticky jam to wipe your slate clean

Our mind’s eye carry the vivid color

Not translating we can still feel it, like phantom limb

There though still not to grow back

Knock the glass out a club in Blackpool

Then we crawl in our bunkers

Hide from today

Hide from tomorrow

Can’t hide from yesterday

Yesterday follows, like lightning always finding ground

Where the truth is buried

Where the pubs are always open

Manic Mancunian , C R E E P

Mark E, Mark E,  R I P

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