The Hunt - Diorama

A summer sky of clouds, rushing homewards

A requiem for youth, distant humming

I cannot show up yet, start without me

I don’t like the idea, gaining contours — here

I started out with hope, drunk with passion

Ending up in smoke, frantic absent

The picture of a pale, wanted poster

Xeroxed from the chase, posted nowhere

Choose your weapon, choose your company

Choose your weapon, choose your company

Line up with the hunters

You can, line up with the hunters

You can’t, trap me in the system

You can’t, trap me in the system

You can, line up with the hunters

You can, line up with the hunters

You can’t, trap me in the system

You can’t, trap me in the system

You can’t

An autumn creeping out, of its ambush

Bragging 'bout its skills, as protector

Although I am aware, of the recoil

I swallow the idea, just to make it — disappear

Choose your weapon, choose your company

Choose your weapon, choose your company

Line up with the hunters

You can, line up with the hunters

You can’t, trap me in the system

You can’t, trap me in the system

You can, strike off my admission

You can, strike off my admission

You can’t, do anything about it

You can’t, do anything about it

You can’t

I’m still running …

Wrapped in daydreams …

Darting sideways …

Through the ditches …

Line up with the hunters

You can, line up with the hunters

You can’t, trap me in the system

You can’t, trap me in the system

You can, strike off my admission

You can, strike off my admission

You can’t, do anything about it

You can’t, do anything about it

You can’t