I drink black rain,
Take another swig and I'm drunk,
Taste venom on the tip of my tongue,
My lips cold.
Spitting out toxins I couldn't dissolve,
Or withhold.
But I never sold my soul for fools gold.
So I'm still free,
but too numb to feel pity,
And now this still city's a ghost town.
Snowflakes cover the ground in white carpet,
Seasons of espionage as time passes.
The lion hearted,
Survival of the hardest artist.
My open arms embrace darkness,
Still craving carnage and infamy,
But even parasites starve in this carcass of industry.
I go north, ankle deep in snowfall,
leaping over drystone walls with a holdall,
Steamclouds rise from my fiery breath,
It's the last twilight before the silence of death.

Urban poetry, innit. Got me through the weekend nicely.