I bouncer

On your manor

i'm more man than doorman

I'm a strayed warrior in the precinct of the orphans

Keep an eye out for me even if the other's on a passing cloud

pregnant with storm

Treat me like a crooked sty off the beaten track you'll always wade through the dew to cross

Note that like a programme you just have to watch

See me like a billboard ad that makes you turn your head

because i flicker on the radar like a stretch limo to your peripheral,

making you raise your left eyebrow

Save this with catchy choruses you havent quite mastered

I'm back on shift

Centurion for tribal sludge,

placid fear in toxic grime, drawing from skills like daily blood

(deferring ugliness with centrifugal side steps;

pinpointing aliens through accumilated flashbacks)

I confiscate magnets from coliding planets and mine is to placate the energies

I absorb the length of seconds, empowering my meditation

forever bemused by the carnal theatre of men and women on booze

I'm the cat's dog in a fight's fog if you judge every satsuma by its peel

My moon made alpha silhouette steeped in urban myths of gratuitous violence
fullfilling subliminal images of villainous skirmishes

but i'm the smallest spawn of the duel at dawn

I drop anaesthetic avalanches in alkaline octaves

(they sound like rolling thunder when you're marinating in a few corrosive acids)

Because my stake is far more fundamental than a high roller's

I watch retiscence evaporate in invisible blankets then trawl the harmonies

docking them off on the pavement

to the venue of metropolis

Then I wash my hands and clock out