Who’s that broken down in the bushes, hazard lights winking,
dressed in pink? Who’s that looking like someone special’s coming,
a passing stranger, a comforting friend? Who’s that, driving, sleek & silver,
wearing an expression of hope & consternation? When I saw you
I couldn’t think, overwhelmed by cruelty, drowning in radio.
The morning was sinking beneath graphic images of bestial atrocities –
somebody to someone. somewhere else. When the details got worse
I turned off the radio, reminded what luxury, this simple action.
Then it got quiet, I realising what I’d seen & turned around & drove
back to you. But when I got back to where you’d been there was nothing
left of you – only tired tracks in the dirt to carry you name.
Cakewalk playing ‘WIRED‘ on the CDJ