Finale

Pushing pace.
You’re in my way.
I’m changing lanes.
You had no faith.

I run all flats, no tire tracks.
I won’t regret, not coming back.

Now I’ve got my brass and swallowed my silver.
I’ve had my war, and I defended my pillbox.
I’ve thrown my stone and caught my knife.

No honey I’m not turning round tonight.

And I know that it’s not fair on you.
But you should have checked that attitude.
You should have checked that your safety’s off.
Couldn’t help yourself like a pig in a trough.

Pushing pace and changing lanes.
And clenching my favourite brass bullet case.
I grin to the mirror, this bittersweet – Justice.

Served cold.
On a crimson plate.

And I push myself, to the edge of the cliff.
No hypocrisy or sacrilege.
No permanent or visual reminders.
No open doorway.
Or strangers’ kindness.

Not anymore.
And never again.