The Fun, The Loss
Poem By Mark Eyre
I'll pick you up on the bank at Seven
My sensational idea of an angel from heaven
Continuous contact til half past Eleven
Where we dream of hiding in a place like Devon
I'll dropp you off around Eight o'clock
Out of sight and around the block
To avoid destruction, heart-ache and shock
Where guilt, and wanting and sadness flock
Why am I really worth the risk?
I'm in and out like a floppy disk
Am I really worth the wait?
You dangled the goods, I took the bait.
I'll think of you at quater past Four
You know what you were responsible for
You know I can do nothing but adore
The things you said, the items you wore
It's over now, it's exactly Nine
We had a plan but no design
Still I think you are divine
Still I wish that you were mine
Was I really worth the fun?
Even though we've come undone
I'll think about you every night
And dream of a day we re-unite