Norwood Junction Realisation

Sunday.
Bright day.
April summer.
(The O-zone layer).
Rob’s face on a picture of
Dieter Brummer.
Make hay.
Make haste.
Don’t let a moment go to waste.
Mort’s employer
Is a random and spontaneous
Destroyer.

Some day.
One day.
The ultimate bummer.
The day (or night) when all this
Goes away.
No more
Seeing things, laughing or arguing,
No more queuing,
Or drinking to the point of spewing
Your guts.
No more routines or ruts.
No more hearing, no tasting,
No feeling.
No more floor, no ceiling.
No seasons.
No reasons.
No more family, passers by or
Good friends.

It all ends.
It will all end.
It all has to come to an end.
On this, depend.

Even railtracks
Don’t look back.
Signals sometimes falter,
And all of this will alter.

So where will you get off
Along the way?
Which stations
Will you name as your creations?
Ride long,
Ride high,
Take in what you can before
You die.

And you will die.

Scared?
I’m shitting blue bricks.
Trying hard to be the director
Of my own flicks.
Don’t just say
Who gives a fuck –
Just do it, like Nike,
And good luck.