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Song: The Creep (by Nick Thran)
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash
A streak of hair gel and sweat shines on his pillowcase
She lies unclothes in the dark beside him
Moving like mist off the lake at the family cottage
Middle of the night, deep in the gears of the city's engine
what unaccountable atrocities are taking place?
What meat cleavers lie in the tulip patches?
What knives are propped blade down in the compost bins?
What if the misspelled words on alley walls
are the clues to unsolved crimes?
KREEEEEEEP, spelled with a K, with seven E's
"No one's born a creep" he thinks
It comes upon you with the stealth of a thousand silverfish
until all of the self help books on the table
look like concert t-shirts, eaten by bleach or time
He would like to wake her now, but she has already left the window
He's already smoke
The gel and sweat has settled into a thin crus on the pillowcase
He breaks it apart and sweeps away the flakes
He will have to walk across the street for coffee
He will have to call his boss
He will have to call his wife
A raccoon and a cat tear each other to pieces
A siren blares and blares and blares
Who runs this town? Who circles the fire?
And what are the names of the horrible creatures
who smell of jet fuel, who broaden the life?