We played the only song we knew
Eight Miles High with all original shards
the fingers span ragas like rain
as if from the precog mind of R. Quine
in the hallway between platforms 5 & 6
the Central Line where the hot winds flow
a rat dressed in pigeon garb
attracted by the sonic cathedral splendour
attacks my cowboy booted foot
is despatched forthwith
a blur of squishy blood and feathers
A hat demands money with menace
coins required for assaulting barbed wire strings
we bleed regardless
singer Jim now recovered
from the kicking we were forced to deal
granny glasses will be worn over dead bodies
We play Eight Miles High over and over
it is the only song we know
fresh passengers hear the song for the first time
singer Jim strong lunged and triple throated
my unconscious harmonies tinged
with the spit of blind howling Mould
on the fifth play we levitate
on the tenth play we become disembodied
the song has been imprinted on the dripping walls
Our job is done
we touch down
and we are set free
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