'Huddled'

She sits flicking through the magazine
Scanning the small ads
And the legacies of the mad axe-man.
He sits in his underpants typing mysteriously
Not even looking at the screen.
The magazine is discarded
And she sits huddled on the sofa awaiting
Billy Joel to stop playing with Captain Jack and his piano.

She sits huddled,
He sits typing.

Love is a strange creature
That binds these two lost souls.
Out on the wide arm
She sleeps with clock chiming ten.

He sits guarding this precious a prize
He has won.

Bring on the beasts
And all the cruel letches.
Bring on the four horseman,
He�ll stand in their way
Like Conan the barbarian,
With a party seven and a loin cloth swapped
For his underpants.