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It could be seconds It could be minutes Or on a good day, maybe an hour after I awake All my senses start to ache Always the same strangling shame Visited down upon my brain each morning My soul is sick A herring gull in an oil slick I don't feel up to it But we're off to an old pal's wedding in the lakes Following a flask of coffee up blustery Catbells We arrive late for the bird of prey display An eagle-owl swoops an inch above the ducking guests The feathered cleaver of its wing nears clouds of our breath It tears apart the abandoned body of a mouse And I feel nothing Mountains of finger food Flutes of fizz Billowing bunting My self-loathing is a purse full of bile Whose drawstrings are those cheery smiles "How have you been getting on?" Letras de cancionesSausage rolls and vol-au-vents "What have you been up to?" Tiny cheese scones "Where are you living these days?" Yellow crumbs on silver trays Here comes the bride, all dressed in white Wraith-like father at her side To the strains of "All I Have to Do is Dream" And a baby's bone-chilling scream Waddling down the aisle comes a Golden Retriever In a waistcoat and dicky bow Golden rings dangling from a length of golden string And a thread of jewels swaying to and fro "I do, I do" Words like tiny fish tossed about in a swell of fierce confetti And the echoing of pre-recorded bells You hook your arm in mine And reel me gently back towards myself But I feel nothing The best man's speech Is pretty much a bleak ham-fisted PowerPoint presentation On the groom's former life Of depravity and degradation The dad dancing is in full swing I'm at the buffet table Hoovering up the last of the corn beef pie I spot you chatting to some guy I don't know who you are Pile of sick on the bar Polyester tie, Jägerbomb Flashing lights, ladder tights, a nasty fight, karaoke Is it me who butchers "My Heart Will Go On" "Hey, let me out" "Stop the car, I want to get out" "Now wait, just calm down" "Don't tell me to calm down" "Please, just calm down" I don't remember what we're even arguing about But I feel something The fog hanging over Crummock Water Is swelling with morning and curlews calling I rub the rheum from my eyes There must be a road nearby From Letras Mania