image Fairytale I left home ‘cos there were voices whispering among the bricks, Sometimes I’d beg outside the abbatoir or sometimes I’d turn tricks, I found this shack in the woods and I’ve been living here since spring, I still hear voices in the trees but I know it’s mostly just the wind. Another john just left and I’m tidying up the mess, He said “I guess there’s no way you take American Express?” It’s my martyrdom among rumpled sheets, Outside it’s not exactly dark, more like daylight in frightened retreat …… I’m washed up here in Lola’s Lunchbox but I guess I should go home, ‘Cos there’s ratshit on the floorboards of my heart, the coffee tastes like shaving-foam. I’ve got a cockroach for a landlord, I’m in arrears, I think it’s time I left this town, And the girls at the next table are talking tit-jobs, it all just brings me down, So I take the road that leads right by the wood, And my head hurts so bad I’d tear my brain out if I could, There’s a woman standing in a field with a bow in her hair, And her lips are moving like she’s whispering some kind of prayer……. He started calling every day, at first we’d barely speak at all, She’d pinned up pictures of medieval saints all around the walls, I’d pretend I was asleep as I’d hear him stumble in, She’s like a Renaissance courtesan sleeping off the gin, And by the hawthorn hedge with the signpost peeping through With two crooked arms and no names to point you to And as the rain tinkled in the branches overhead “How can you stand to let those scumbags touch you?” he said. I watch the headlights frisk the trees as she tempts them up the lane, It’s like the gods guide my knife, I doubt they ever feel much pain, Then we go through their stuff and help ourselves to what we need Then drag them to the riverbank and lay them down among the reeds. The wind sings and the rain on the roof beats time, And he laughed and said we’re like the Sonny & Cher of crime, Then he smiled like the gargoyle on the graveyard gates And he pulled on my ponytail And I’m almost afraid to exhale, ‘Cos a breath can be like a nail-bomb to a fairy tale…… [ Back ]