Drifting and slipping I wrote my last meaningless note,
by Brian Counsell
and decided not to take my son, s coat.
I locked up the house and the night was so black.
I suddenly realised there was no turning back.
They will never find the car, it is so lonely down here.
Desperate, cold, crying but surprisingly no fear.
I thought, what have I? Who needs me, well maybe.
I thought of my dog, she would bark, .please feed me?
I unhooked the hose, my rumeration as quiet as a mouse.
Drove hell for leather back to my house.