The Whistle - Blackout Beach

I heard the day of our night shall start with the setting of the sun

And the hardship of labour shall for three blessed hours be undone

I walk into the gossip

Fulfil my needs

Eat to satiate that which has flown

Rub my dirty fingers upon the denim that shall one day be cashmere,

and find the cash for the phone

Call Donna to say I’m tired

Call her every night

Beaches sound the same over the phone

Just a lot of laughter and sunlight and William (her boyfriend) feeling her up

So tacky

So she groans

So I laugh;

an old friend, but fucking William!

I want to crack his neck and perform one million castrations with his bones

No I won’t no I won’t no I won’t

I shall descend into my bunk

And wonder

And wonder at the cold

And wonder that anything has ever happened before this date to make me feel

uncold

I remember my youth: seeing some great 'scape, some sinless plot of Dawn’s nape

Some stretch of white dawn lit tip or cape

Or horn or frosty bit of land’s last head of state

Seeing myself bundled

Some blind youth thinking that all land could just be surveyed

And not, you know, dug up:

Sure Donna you can borrow 200 bucks

Reagan sucks

The weather sucks

The blasted cold curls my hand

The quarters are hell to hold

The quarters are hell to hold

I want to talk to you now

I want to tell you that William is the whore

William is the whore!

The simpering beast in a cage

The bastard drunk in the rage

The blasted heath on the page

The fucking whimper from some sage pretty boy from outside of the city,

but close enough to know, man, that city girls are the only way to lose

yourself in darkness, man!

William, you’re going to be losing yourself in darkness before the fourth wind

arrives

William, you’re going to be losing yourself in darkness before the fourth wind

arrives