Cooling sun lowers it’s
April bulk behind the rooftop horizons.
Light will fade, die;
Clouds shift, shiver, sigh,
Spilled hot blood
Cool, congeal
Then dry.
We are the ones out of step,
The ones out of place, here;
We always were:
The dishonourable thieves,
Society wreckers,
Trouble seekers and
Storm brewers.