The train came early
that morning...

And that sickly feeling in the pit
Of my stomach and heart...

Victoria was Victorious, in 1898
Gladstone passed away...

Oh! Ten ton,
the bags of life...

There is a drum inside me;
it's pulse echoes my...

A dank and musty reek
drip...drop...

The child lies in a morgue pretending to sleep,
Whilst the mother sings a broken lullaby...

Ten years old,
genius and foolish...

Collapsing into an eternal pit of
nothingness - not even a shadow for company...

This morning I woke up - alone
The bird of dawn was looking queer...

A chip of milky chocolate
cast on the frigid tarmac...

And he stood before eternity,
waiting for his love to arrive...