If the sun got down Icarus would be alive.
The town was asleep. In its sleep it did strive.
Its sleep was restless and dreams were troubled.
It cried so the daily portions of rain were doubled.
Why can't I just bury my face in your tweed coat?
Why can't you tear the sob from my throat?
While the trains of the Victoria station will come
and go you will put on my tongue your thumb
and teach me how to stop worrying and love
the bomb.
“Can we go together to Tallahassee to unload my head?”
When Icarus burnt down he shook hands with the dead.
But you shook your head and left me in this town
with your coat and trains. But I couldn't burn down
as even the ancient Greeks new that the rain
is the best fire extinguisher. So it started to reign
o're me.