I can draw a pretty picture
And some may call it art...

I don't think I write poetry.
Though sometimes I write rhymes...

So once again
The pens in hand...

Not a trail to follow
Not anything to eat...

Mate.
This is so so hard to write...

As I traverse from west to east already I see your...
You still hide behind the Pennines...

Sometimes I sit and think a bit,
Some would say it is too much...

Ooh look at you in your flash car.
You should really learn to drive...

I feel like I'm empty inside
There is definitely a void...

She puts her hand on my chest
Shoves me to the wall...

How blissfully unaware of what moves bellow my...
Dark undercurrents churn and flow, devious and...

I doubt that you will think of them
But I assure you they are there...