It is loud enough for me to pick out the words of the song and feel each beat reverberating throughout the building. The song evokes the images of dim rooms in an underground pub, brick walls and all. It never seemed more real than now. Remembering the days which no longer exist was more painful than having to talk about it and so I pen it down on a scruffy piece of paper ...only to lose it when morning comes.
There are no surprises in the fallen words which travelled only so far into space and time. They drop like birds shot out of the sky and I could only watch and set the hunting dogs upon their bodies. And when walking by the ford, I would dip my hand into the cold water and wish it would wash away the memories.
But of course the music stops and the images float away into the night as if to tease me by eluding me. The view of the ceiling now sets upon me and I realise that there is no stream to walk by or sky for which the birds (or the words) to fall from. I am left in a space and void which holds no meaning or emotions. It was all an imagination - a fiction of the mind.
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