The Listening Times

These are the listening times

The last breaths of the night

We smoke our desperate fags

Regard the ugly light of the morning

These are my morning thoughts

Everyone looks awful

We need to go to bed

This conversation's never had

It can't get out

Like pasture they're growing thick

Green, and on the ground

Everyone looks down

At a person gnawing on their shoelace

Tonight, we'll set sail for the tropic of Capricorn

The kebab shop at the horn is open till the sun comes up

That is all