Mazda

Our boy is finally coming home

The city of lights gets your foot in the door

4:42 p.m., we stood, the asphalt

Staring up as an eight tonne Jesus rode through a greying Mazda

Got me thinking of Naza's big work by crushing tins for the recycling

With a bone that shook the deck

Flat cans jingle into the yellow topped wheelie-bin

Police stood around in raincoats

So fine, it's almost mist

The defogging is fucked

And we're all getting old

That was plain as the barely rain

As the barely rain