by Nick Gisburne
I am trapped in an echo in time
In an echo... an echo in time
In an echo... echo
Echo... echo... echo
In an echo in time... in time... time
When the candidate lost his protection
From an intimate viral infection
He was banned from the vote
When the hospital wrote
“No more polling and no more election”
As the two-headed troll pushed the pace
All his cherry-cheeked chums cheered the chase
With a pulse-popping pedal
He bagged the blue medal
A satisfied smile on each face
My bleary-eyed four-year-old daughter
Had sneaked down the stairs but I caught her
She’s a wonderful kid
But the last time she did
She covered the carpets in water
There’s a tentacled beast in my bath
And another with horns on the path
But it’s hard to complain
When these monsters have slain
All the rest of my race with their wrath
See the hover jet speed through the city
And its pilot, outrageously witty
See the fear in her eyes
As she crashes and dies
And the pulp of the pieces, so pretty
See the sacred and sanctified rock
Where the souls of our forefathers flock
In this mystical light
Feel its towering might
And from here it looks just like a cock
At the heart of this festering tomb
In the sulphurous, shadowy gloom
Squats a skeletal child
Feral, filthy and wild
Who refuses to tidy his room
She remembered when others forgot
They abandoned us, but she did not
She was thoughtful and kind
And the day she went blind
She was useless and had to be shot
He was certain he’d witnessed a ghost
In a spooky old house on the coast
“Was it greyish and dead?”
“No, more brownish, like bread
Do I get the reward if it’s toast?”
