​Voices
Vicarious Lover
I’m not myself, I am the actor
Waiting the cues
Unknown direction from unknown directors
Actions that haunt the invisible audience
See me in the reflection
As I saw you

This distance means nothing
It has to be nothing
Final performance
Redefine the action
This distance means nothing
It has to be nothing
Final performance
Redefine the action

Comeback as a flower
Comeback as rose
See me… reflection
As I saw you

Through the ageless void
Through the camera eye
We are all the same

I know and you know
This is rehearsed
[Spoken]
He travels by night, journeys without destination in cold busses and cold patrons without features
He wonders if indeed they are anything like him, without identity or soul, bereft of purpose condemned to exist in the small hours
Not real people at all, rats and maggots incapable of keeping the rhythm of humanity, sent alone to survive outside the hive
Distinct from the dealers, pimps, burglars and filth, at least they possess a crass purpose, fighting for urban survival amongst themselves
Boldly contaminating Lambeth street corners under pestilential night skies, they retreat when dawn light bleeds through clouds and the city stirs from slumber