crystalline skies
and a secret obsession with romance
the monster is dead
at the hands of the sailor
silver waves striking back
with a fear from below
bristling and lonely the silence ain’t golden
when the children they don’t make it home
and the poems that are read
at the side of the bed
are manifestos to murder their own
glory, glory
raise up black hand of doom
return the winter’s ale
swallow the secrets of man
and hold yourself in the scent of betrayal
white roses for the king and queen
white roses on empty streets
the riot squad is on it’s way
