Liverpool Street

Dear listener Mister Henry Spychalski is exhibiting extremely volatile behaviour There is a confluence of long standing abandonment And rejection issues With mythological and quasi-biblical delusions Expressed in long, rambling narratives Hoo! Ha! To the - door! Punctuated by song and dance Apart from the standard diagnoses of narcissism Depression and acute psychosis I believe that the incident that we refer to as 'The Event' Has triggered a dissolution of the distinction Between symbolic and real figures in his mind Where'd you go? Sometimes I catch Myself Falling Backwards To where We said Goodbye On the concourse Running late for Your plane just like Always, always I don't notice My tears til the Ticket man asks Am I okay When the smoke clears And the doors close Wave to me from The train windows I'll call your name For the last time I will love you Til my last breath And in death I will go To the church where me made Vows that we couldn't keep While the children we made Held the train of your dress Off the dust on the floor There where happiness lives I will sleep forever more Lover, hold me Memory, haunt me Take me back to Liverpool Street By the time you hear these words Maybe I'll be over you Until then, I'll wait for you With unshakeable patience I'll wait where you left me - By the trains At Liverpool Street station It is most likely in this petri dish That the Worm was born Patient strongly believes - And is perhaps correct in believing - That he's the only one capable of killing the worm And that this is a necessity for salvation He made the Worm He has to kill the Worm