Le grand cambriolage

Sometimes I wish somebody broke into my flat

and burgled everything – even the books

even my clothes – nothing even to be sat

and nought but dust sheeping in the nooks.

I'd then be homeless and run with the gale

cross deserts and all them little brooks

I've been dreaming of as if the grail –

I'd then be free from everything that hooks.

I frankly don't know what's pinning me down here –

everywhere I seem to be turning my looks

I see nothing but madness tier upon tier

I see nothing but what the mind snaps and crooks –

Yet everyone content with the same outlooks

– only I at peace with what reality brings –

while all seem arrayed in ready-to-burn stooks

while all see the essence in booze, drugs and flings.

Sometimes I wish somebody broke into my flat

so I could finally shirk off this pack of rooks

and go my own way for this isn't my combat –

to each their own fading bliss in their own fading books.