So it's just history and me.
Guy Clarke, Prefab Sprout.
Silk Cut.
The rain scratching windows,
of a Friday night.
I could pick up the phone.
Talk to a friend.
In LA.
CA.
Basildon.
Wakefield.
Wherever.
But it's the reasons I haunt.
With this old addict conviction.
It's every serenity prayer.
That I choke on.
Accept, accept accept.
These things,
that I cannot change.
