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It wearys the eyes being optimistic
Even in a heated library
They expect me to live monastic
"Excuse me sir, don't read beside me"
When the blood comes in on the floor every night
I wish there was someone else with towel in hand
As I watch her peruse her copy of "The woman in white"
It's made clear to me she doesn't understand
A peep from me and she'll leave this place
I just want to look at the poetry books
Not looking for her to serve it up on a plate
Now she's fluttering off in a huff

I've cropped my hair tight
In the fashion of a table-top magazine
Even though we live in perpetual night
The lowliest dog can find time for such dreams
A Summer dress down to the water
That's were I'll meet you in army green
And though my uniform is tainted in pig-slaughter
I promise you love I am keen, I am keen
To know the fucking silliest things
More than you read in the magazines
More than you'd find on the internet
The way you look at me is a hidden alphabet

I... I...

You what?