Alan Whickers & The Butcher's Hook

An inquisitive glance from a girl
Gets met by one that most closely resembles
That of a wounded animal,
Two score tales of despair
Lay shallowly buried
Behind an opaque layer of hazel soil

Porcelain skinned young woman
Lies stripped amongst the brambles and loam
Under a hawthorn hedgerow at the edge of a copse
Her eyes once shone so bright
Now faded to a lacklustre surface
Dull and forgotten 

I am one man in an estate built for near one hundred
Stomach rotting from red wine
That pours like the springtime rain each night
The grand piano holding the weight of this withering body
Phantom compositions, a cacophony of
Discords from a devilish symphony
Scream throughout the silence of the small hours

Soon I will perish, wilt away
Like the petals of graveside flowers
Though there will be no sentimental gestures
Only a rough plot in the Potter's Field
Confined to a cheap pine coffin
These brittle bones turning slowly to dust