|
|
Needles
In Windsor West on Sunday
night
a sigh of grief, hushed and brief
The vinyl disk of Trance relief
cracked the night with flashing light
Then at the height of hip-hop rite
the pulsing sound died in the eve
I’m suffering without reprieve
the needle bright, had lost the fight
I long for rhythm in my blood
to save me from this quiet tomb
to save me from this silent mud
I wander through this muted space
to find a needle in the room
to find a needle in this place
|
