running out of fantasy

The dying fall of my sentences
The magic of lost consequences
The seduction of a fading power
In a hotel room in the middle of nowhere
I’m running out of fantasy…

I don’t expect your sympathy
I’m old, I’m strange, I’m confidential
Has my fantasy run out of delusion?
Has my fantasy reached its logical conclusion?

what a waste of years

The doctor gave me pills to take
To stop me feeling quite so awake
To take the edge off of this big black cloud
But now it is quarter to ten
I’ll sit with a paper and a pen
Just writing shit until I fall asleep

I’ve got a heart
I think it’s bigger than yours
Because it lets people in
Who constantly disappoint me
And I’ve got a soul
And it’s as sad as they come
Because it used to feel everything
And now it’s just numb, numb, numb

Polly Scattergood