August and waiting Shaken down from head to toe, scraping the wall where I’ll lie. All the colours are rushing in, I pass the parcel back again. Licking sweat from your upper lip, you make me swear aloud. I pass this on to my next of kin, it’s August, I’m still waiting. Climbing through the hoops and things being tangled in your hair, the raucous noise of everything, I pass the parcel back again. Cradled in my swaddling, lulls me off to sleep. I’m hoping I can dream again, it’s August, I’m still waiting. I heard the tune of Greensleeves floating down the hall, whistle me another, I’ll find you in the walls. I have time, I’ll never give in, It’s August, I’m still waiting. He comes in to my room at night and dances in my mind, nothing thrown will bother him, I pass the parcel back again. To never see his face or feet, a vision so obscene. I’ll close my eyes, but won’t give in, It’s August, I’m still waiting. Written by David
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