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lyrics

People eating and, speaking on the tele.
I was eating my dinner. I had fish
fingers, chips and peas. No, I didn’t.
I had a sweet potato, a bit of salmon
and some kale, cos apparently:

Kale makes you warmer in the winter;
I read it in Men’s Health Magazine when I was at Justin’s.
Or maybe it wasn’t in Men’s Health Magazine, maybe it was in
Cosmopolitan when I was seeing me mam
in the er Leeds General Infirmary.

Scowling faces, don’t you move; sunglasses down and splendour.
The diff-rence between gray hair and dark hair.
Santana at Woodstock (can’t read my writing).
Me being the kind of twat who keeps a tally; we did this we did that.
My to-do list is huge, my to-do list is massive; the transition between surfaces.

Putting a train ticket in a CD package. Ooh, that’s a bit weird, that’s a bit strange,
that’s a bit weird. I have no idea what I want; only what I want – if that.
Feeling detached and lost and possibly conscious, and this dirty attempt it nothing.

Train travel interludes:
‘Patrick seems happy with the project.’
Does he now? Can you move, cos that trolley is keeping the door not shut.

‘Would you like a sandwich?’
‘What colour is it?’
Just fucking have one.
‘It’s a sandwich.’
‘What colour is it?’
Just fucking have one.
‘It’s kind of Sandwich…’
Cor and drolls and hot paninis.

A woman looking round/forward to serving me,
over the tannoy, ‘We have got...’
A tower black is not on fire in the distance
something on is on fire behind it,
smoking behind it, gone.

Hot panini x3
I fancy one, but I bet they taste horrible.

credits

from Damp Towels Stink Drama, released August 28, 2018

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Mark Wynn York, UK

Based on a true story.

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