that tattoo on your chest says you’re so stupid and brave
put a hand on your heart and a glass in your face
coming in black and blue, in the window she’s wearing green
the railway’s deserted when i phone from the platform
you’ll be shooting off to anywhere from Leith Central Station
but i go up to the city where i have to be careful
cause i feel more foreign than the people i know there
who came thousands of miles to the thousands of years here
and there are thousands of songs illustrating the distance
that run through my mind when i’m drunk, hypnotised
i lie to myself, i just don’t want to be walking home
alone down that tightrope, bohemia to junkie boredom
early Easter Sunday morning, when i resurrect the ghosts
that i keep in my pocket with the ring i would never keep on
Calvin whispers judgement deep inside my heathen mind
Henrysoun is stern but sympathetic, i ought to learn this time
so i trace the map on the wall into the quiet space behind my eyes
i might be sleeping somewhere more peaceful some night soon.