Marooned From Our Cocoon.

A-romantic, we listen to Pere Ubu

Three quarters of an hour for small talk, patient

Another cup of black coffee, it’s a bit of a false pleasure

As we tiptoe round each other’s verbs

Why do I forget most of what I’ve learnt?

I could stroll the aisle with you in arms, I forget why not

 

I was the man you liked to call Cash

And I said that I would not crash

And burn, as the heat of our hearts

Yielded something, a rapport worth melding

But I forget most of what I’ve learnt

Whilst you fumble the alarm button, fourth time now

And they finally knock down the plastic works

For the new season

 

Probably, I like it best when you’re stoned,

We can think of ourselves like children

Playing side guitar in an occasional reggae band,

And not look forward to my driving lessons

Where the teacher is so a-romantic, listening to U2

Marooned from a cocoon, we’ll have to meet new people now

And statements, statements

 

Of you refusing to buy into the concept of marriage until gay people can get married too

Or your green revolution, half-cute conspiracy theory

Meanwhile I’ve seen the make-up you wear and where it’s from

And I don’t need it.

When our acquaintance comes round, don’t clean the sheets

We’ll have three quarters of an hour small talk

We’re British, after all

Marooned from a cocoon, hurling around the moon

Forgetting again what I’ve learnt.

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