Joyce's Hut

Drifting sideways is what I like on a Monday

Sinking quietly and thinking violently, what's that you say?

Driving through on a fulsome moon in the night time

I can see what the city has done to the pipeline

Hopeless sliding, I want no fighting in my car

It seems weird but the farmer has sheared over too far

The birds are out but I see no doubt of a cure

For all the things that go waiting within far are fewer