The Hairy Years

The Trash Can Sinatras

The Hairy Years

I lingered within earshot of the seaside souvenier shopfront

Itchy fingers sweating on a snoscene

Little puppy eyes dart

A tiny world is ending

Detective is descending

All the savings gone on bloody day one

Little butterflies start

Here began my hairy years

Set me down on a country lane myself

Drinking myself lame

Call

Collect and gather me

Take me intravenously

Or I'll just prowl the hills

It's hares and hunts

You scour the country

We are not Jack and Jill

Why do you tumble after me