And you slip away from me, I lose my grip… mime and cynic, rags to riches, crying clowns, man down, back to your life with your hand-me-down frowns. You’re boring me, now there’s a surprise, fickle thing got chilli pickle teared in her eyes, reared as a sacrifice, veered from reality, steered from fantasy, sneering the economy. Chocolate veneer melts in my lungs. Nasty surprise, plucked up courage and sprung from mother hen, he coined her golden egg, pregnant. I’m a blank canvas, colour me in.