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As I lay me down to sleep
(as I know I surely will)
Twelve thousand miles away - you're there, for the moment
And that makes the score 10 - nil.
Having been atop the Eiffel Tower
Having seen St Peters in Rome
Having seen art, and culture, and beauty
More beautiful was you, at home.
Now you won't speak to me
You won't let me say goodbye
You fly away the day I fly in...
So without you, I'm coming home to die.
In Rome I toasted the city
On the Alps I toasted Steve
But when you weren't on that gondola in Venice
I could not toast, I grieved.
I've been called a fool (and worse) before
Because of what I feel for you
But when one has found perfection
What else could I do?
I scoured half the civilized world
and spared absolutely no resource
to find a girl better than you, but there is none
If anything, that point was only reinforced.
My last three quid's gone on Heineken
It's all I can now afford
Killing time till they call my flight
Half drunk, lonely, broke, and bored.
It's been a holiday to remember, all right!
Robbed in Paris by 3 goons and a sack
The exchange rate's looking really sad these days
Penniless and ego injured, it's time to go back.
Counting down the minutes
Till it's farewell to this England
Time to go home where one belongs
And give Fate a helping hand.
In a fornight's time
You'll be arriving in this place
And what I can only aspire to
You'll handle with style and grace.
So I wish you all the best, my love
Although I am not yours.
You'll be the ray of sunshine here
Even while the heavens open up, and it pours.
I hope no tragedy strikes this flight
and the plane lands safely on the ground,
I'll do what I must, by my own hand
And what's mine is yours, D, when I'm not around.
October, 2000
To fight the good fight,
To try and do what's right,
Somehow, it's never enough.
i still feel like shit
Quite a lot, not a bit
and what's more - i don't give a stuff.
The future's the same
And playing this game
Is only reliving the past.
i got given life
i got got given strife
Neither for which did i ask.
To continue this farce
Is a pain in the arse
And an exercise in total futility
Better to to out
On top, without doubt
Then succumb to old age and senility.
Rather than fall into disgrace
i can get out of this place
and i'm reserving the right to choose
What little that mattered
Is all tarnished and battered -
Because there's nothing here left to lose.
Sometime, 2001
I see a face in the mirror,
it looks a little bit like me
i think what i've become
i don't like what i see.
you gave me hope of something better,
then you flood my world with tears
my hate and spite are good companions
living in my house of fear.
i hate you, but i hate me more
i hate what i've become,
because of you, in spite of you,
i am empty, cold and numb.
a shell exists where someone lived,
the hollow sounds inside
empty laugher, reverberating
at the false illusion of my pride.
the tie goes on, around my neck,
the suit is pressed and clean.
the sweet smell of the aftershave
masks the smell of where i've been.
The sunglasses hide the eyes
the tinted windows hide the rest.
in the office, the house, the open air -
i can't hide from what i detest.
November, 2000
-Magnus Pym
Last update: Tuesday, June 19, 2001 13:51
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