Wriggle and Drone

On the way home from the Blade Bone
You see a lot of wriggle and drone
All the shamen and some gay men
Walk it back as they wriggle and drone
On the flightpath, after the bloodbath
It’s a feast of wriggle and drone
My favourite pop group
With their drumloops
Lock it down as they wriggle and drone…

All the subtle links are severed
To the coiling arcs of pleasure
Though it seems it lives for ever -
There’s nothing left but wriggle and drone…

So bracing, south-facing
In the sun we wriggle and drone
On the back foot
When I last looked
You couldn’t move for wriggle and drone
All the Greek boys, with their bleak noise:
Ruritanian wriggle and drone
Feel the blastwave from the Batcave:
Cataclysmic wriggle and drone…

There is nothing left to hope for
Or to push the envelope for
Not inclined to drop the soap for
Anymore of that wriggle and drone…

On the shake-down
We had a scrape round
All bound for wriggle and drone
With the grindcore
On the shop-floor
They’re all for wriggle and drone…
On the blindside
Slightly pie-eyed
Won’t be denied some wriggle and drone
Out in deep space
And at the duck race
We got a taste for wriggle and drone…

Quite a lot of now or nevers
Surreptitious use of feathers
All those classical endeavours:
File em under wriggle and drone…

(wriggle has a thing that doesn’t quit
Drone has a wriggle inside of it)

(drone gotta wriggle on the blindside
Wriggle got a drone it cannot hide)