But it's something I had to do.
It isn't often an idea would land so
Menacingly in the forefront of my mind
And refuse to disappear
Until either recognised or denied.
This was something exceptional.
And so the clocks ticked still
And the dustmen would come on a daily basis,
Both unaware that inside my house
Was an Alien, itching to go back home.
Unkempt, snared, chainsmoking the crimson covers
And walls till sound was no good.
And through all the stings of wailing and
Fucked up Christmas cards
There was surely a free connection ready for the taking.
I knew it couldn't be real,
So I pulled back the lever and drifted on
Knowing that the big time and the real life
Were at the other side.
My eyes were stinging, my sides were aching -
My own personal stigmata there to menace and enjoy.
Things had been good touching base, but
The question marks were close to oblique
And I had to turn them away.
It drove me mad to watch the movement
And see so many families wave goodbye
Whilst all those bawling idiots
Cried out for a story from the fucked up clown
That they thought the alien might be.