Poll: Who do you want the points to go to ?
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View poll results: Who do you want the points to go to ?
5 63%
3 38%
Voters: 8.
2 points.. Please cast your vote.

Death Comes To Us All

He has that look on his face again
He's plotting and conspiring and envisioning my downfall
But for now he is lonely, sitting broken on the pavement
I wonder if he knows how it feels to be burned by the flame
I wonder if he's ever considered taking a step down The Mall
He's probably lying to himself pretending he is free of blame

But we all know he is going straight to Hell
I can hear the train approach with a ring of its bell
And the sound is frightening

On the corner of the gilded avenue
Where he can see the people walk towards The Mall
He's plotting my downfall
But I will stand tall
I can hear the train approach
I can hear the whistle in the darkness
I'm terrified; have I died?

There he is with that look on his face
Pretending he's interested in space
When I look his way
There's a man asking passers-by if they would like this magazine
But they can see the big issue
Outwith his dirty hands

There he is with that look on his face
Pretending he is in another time and place

The church bell rings thrice
He glides along as if the pavement were made of ice
Can you see that smile upon his face?
Now he's disinterested in space

He looks like he's escaped Victorian London
Yet for a twenty-first-century man
He looks old-fashioned yet conniving
Causing disease in the run of things

The train's a-coming
The haunting whistle is still blowing
The platform's full of junkies
Taking the last ride of their life

Carnival Fair

The slurred speech of a stranded drunk,
Held up by a helping hand
Of a friend who's worse for wear.

Two fingers shown to the grown-ups
Who moan, about those damn teenage girls
Going topeless on the rides for free.

Mums and dads make sure their own offspring,
Walk around with eyes on only one
Set of tea-cups.

High-five's slapped between packs
Of chuckling hyenas, as they each take a hit
Upon the the fairground punchbag.

The fair cries long into the night,
As the forgotten floats sail solemnly into
The distance; much like the long-gone
Traditions of old, where the carnival itself
Was where it's "at".
I voted green, It really reminds me of the good old times I had at the fair as a kid. I did like the red, but the reminiscence of the second won it for me.
Tears in waves, minds on fire
Nights alone by your side