Sweet Doll Feelings
So much organised periphery
Planning ahead to pop to the pub,
To the loo,
For a pee,
Before we jump in the queue,
And we’ll shake,
And we’ll shiver,
And stutter,
While we wait for the doors,
And we wait to get started.
There’s all this rush,
And flutter and hurry,
As we scurry to the front,
Get in our places,
Stake claim in this space.
Then we finally breathe,
Make time to let anticipation set in,
And we’re finally waiting,
Breath quickening,
Staring at keyboard and drum kit,
And adrenaline sits in the pit of my stomach,
‘Til they’re there.
Right in front,
Living and breathing,
Hammering, screaming,
Loving and loving so alive,
And I’m screaming their words right back,
In an infinite loop of regression,
And bleeding a possession of each other,
So deep and I’m reeling,
And the drum hits so quick
And so hard that it’s shaking me,
Hitting my heart so hard,
Overtaking me,
Drowned in drumbeats,
And Dolls out of Dresden,
And drips and beer spray,
And I could do this all damned day.
Every single minute,
Soaked in the perfect fit,
Of a space where they love you,
And fit like a glove.
But we leave, at the end,
Sticking to floors
And picking through cups,
To coat checks and chicken shops,
And “What the hell did I just watch?”.
And we found a quick home,
In the place where sounds of our youth
Ripped us to shreds with a sliver of truth,
And it’s fed us sweet feeling,
That leaves us reeling til bed,
With sweet dreaming of dolls in our head.
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