Fields of pure gold

In charcoal skies

Kids with glass faces

Showing goodbye

On a rickety school bus, with round flat tires

To a funeral procession

Lit by plastic fires

Burn marks from our hugs

Ash trays used as mugs

Embarrassed by hope, so we haven’t spoke

Since the war ended

Between the gap

Suspended

Two trumpeters playing two long notes 

A couple of dodgy

Gentrified blokes

Coins that drop into cups and fall right through

Onto the tracks, of a new curfew

Mind the gap

Mind the gap

Mind the gap

Don’t even try to cross it

They’ll say you’ve lost it

Mind the gap

Don’t drink from the tap

The rivers been poisoned, it’s trickling down

Stream

Back behind the beauty queens