The bottle-message smashed at the foot of the stairs,
A glass-like invitation to God-knows-where,
As the photograph made my conscience laugh,
I sat down in the kitchen and cried.

The location’s strange and I dread my fate,
Caught the rain-soaked hinged on the rusted gate,

But the map was wrong, and my head was strong,
Emotions like someone had died.

But I spat it out,
This bitter pill.
And I eased it out,
All against my will.

The seats with dust-clothing all looked the same,
Before the chandelier rose and the opera changed,
And the memory of what used to be,
As if some one concocted a lie.

Be-spectacled thinker with a headache grey tape,
When the whirr-loop flickered I made my escape,
From reality to some fantasy,
Emotions like I want to die.

But I spat it out,
This bitter pill.
And I eased it out,
All against my will.

The faded grey shadows re-enact the past,
Some big murder trial to be solved at last,
But the tale gets worse, defendant has a curse,
And he only has one more lie.

The focal character took a break from the screen,
Like he’d woken from some dreadful dream,
Alfie-like gesture, forgotten ancestor,
Sat down in the theatre and cried.

And he spat it out,
That bitter pill.
And he eased it out.
All against his will.
And I spat it out,
This bitter pill.
And I eased it out,
All against my will.