Decline

Decline The owner of my bar died his widow opened windows wide and life flooded in; sun light in my corner of happy misery. My glass of brandy paled in a flash of naked light. I escaped to the bar`s loo, but the cleaners were there smelling disinfectant and soap. There was nothing for it, but to face the outside where the sky is molten lava dripping heat. Black dressed preachers of doom, at last another bar, a twilight zone with blinking neon light. Shield me from the brutal day to a place where men don`t turn their head when someone enters, but spend their time following an echo of a dream they once had. I`m safe here and tomorrows will never come, as I sail in on the sea of make belief