Inspired by this Mecano hit
where has the land of the fairies gone
through bits of mecano strewn on the floor
they have grown weary, we have grown old
yet grass grows in the shadows
all see much the same colours
feels pretty much the same just like
they feel pretty, like feeds like, life bleeds life
on saturating screens, leaches on racks
neurons race on race tracks
fires fireworks via tracts of wire
sets off sound, surround, blocks my mind
on the rocks, books unhooked
touch feels out of looks
skin dry and parched
yet parchments of old
call to that singular voice of hope
