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 till 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 till my last breath

And in death I will go to the church where we 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 forevermore

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, 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