Deep West

Down on the dark end of the street
The harbour wind exhales slow
And plastic rain falls from the sky
Onto the cobblestone below
Through the dystopia that sets the scene
You wish the violence of the war machine
Would disappear into a dream

Downtown the Gypsy lived alone with just a cat
Inside a house but not a home
Far from the countryside she had fled
Now disintegrating and soon unknown

While the hungry little men
With pale white faces from anthropocenes
Were taking one for the money
Two for the trust
And three to send us on our way
Along a trail of dust

She left the window open wide
So I leapt down to the turf below
And ran in search of time we'd lost
With just the quiet earth left to know
Beyond the market and the village green
The coast was swamped with polyethylene
And ghost ships were lurching across the sea

But pigs tend to fly
Off the beaten track
And far away from the farm
Will they ever make it back?

While the hungry little men
With pale white faces from anthropocenes
Are taking one for the money
Two for the crust
And three to send us on our way
Along a trail of dust