Normal weekend, normal night,
intriguing things upon my arm
and spinning across the stage.
Tomorrow will be stranger still.
Learn a little, hear a lot
about how to dance, or sing,
or play forgotten instruments.
When did I care about any of this?
Down the track, dirty road.
Stop, start, repeat until healthy.
Then split the atom, separate.
I’ll not sleep well tonight.
A week hence, a fire burns.
My mind is lost in smoke and ash.
But while I was burning, elsewhere,
an idea was set in stone.
Play the game, spin the wheel,
but know it will never come round again.
The game is over, I’ve lost too much,
and the players are all elsewhere.