Charlotte Sings
When I’m smoking outside bars
And the ash falls in the rain,
The alloy wheels of passing cars
Spin blurring down the lane;
It takes no sense of reason,
Still the gutters murmur tales,
Cartons greased of gastric treason
Make their happy trails.
When she smiles down from the screen,
From the plasma on the wall,
The dirty brickwork seems more clean
And light shines on us all;
I find it leaves me pining
For a dream that doesn’t fail,
Gorgeous eyes in dusk defining
Of the fairest nightingale.
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