Elbow Yard

 

In Elbow Yard the walls are thin

between this world and the next.

We communicate through clairvoyants

because we couldn’t  handle text.

But that’s all right mate,

that’s pretty cool,

you didn’t like clowns

and I’m the fool.

 

In Elbow Yard the darkness reigns

and death dances out of sight

ready to drag us to his ballroom,

illuminated in pale gaslight.

But that’s all right mate,

we’ll live forever,

we’re indestructible,

we’re oh so clever.

 

In Elbow Yard the summer sunshine

never reaches into dusty rooms

or settles on the brittle birch branches

hastily gathered into brooms.

But that’s alright mate

we’re young and clean

and there are no corners

where we haven’t been.

 

In Elbow Yard we sink or swim,

we hit the target or ricochet

around a million could-have-beens,

we’ll live to fight another day -

and that’s alright mate,

we don’t need goodbyes,

we’ll be here next week

under Merrie City skies.

 

In Elbow Yard the flickering lamps,

sad with the pathos of the world,

close around a leaving figure -

heading where love and warmth are curled.

But that’s alright mate,

as you finally wend

your weary path

beyond ‘The End’

 

That’s alright mate.

That’s alright friend.