LDN PAD

The sinews in my chest got trapped in the wheels of a train

Clackety-clack my ribs are stretched from Penzance to Paddington

My body's trampled into the tracks and I spew out petroleum that tastes like vodka and Coke

First great western sits on my chest flinging me back and forth city sea city sea I can't breath this oil it's making me retch

I hate a man who sits on this train

He's my colours like autumn I want to stamp his feet into the ground

I hate him because I might love him but there's a train and half of Britain in the way so who knows for sure

I think liminal is my type.

This is unfortunate but it's mine so I'll bare the train on my chest

As long as our hands speak

And his eyes want mine