It could be seconds, it could be minutes
Or on a good day maybe an hour
After I awake all my senses start to ache
Always the same strangling shame
Visited down upon my brain each morning
My soul is sick - a herring-gull in an oilslick

I don't feel up to it but we're off
To an old pal's wedding in the Lakes
Following a flask of coffee up blustery Catbells
We arrive late for the bird-of-prey display

An eagle-owl swoops an inch above the ducking guests
The feathered cleaver of its wing hews clouds of our breath
It tears apart the abandoned body of a mouse
And I feel nothing

Mountains of finger food, flutes of fizz
Billowing bunting... My self-loathing is
A purseful of bile whose drawstrings are those cheery smiles

"How have you been getting on? "
Sausage rolls and vol-au-vents
"What have you been up to? "
Tiny cheese scones
"Where are you living these days? "
Yellow crumbs on silver trays

Here comes the bride all dressed in white
Wraith-like father at her side
To the strains of "All I Have to Do is Dream"
And a baby's bone-chilling scream

Waddling down the aisle comes a Golden Retriever
In a waistcoat and dickybow
Golden rings dangling from a length of golden string
And a thread of jewels swaying to and fro

"I do, I do": Words like tiny fish tossed about in a swell
Of fierce confetti and the echoing of pre-recorded bells
You hook your arm in mine
And reel me gently back towards myself
But I feel nothing

The best man's speech is pretty much a bleak
Ham-fisted PowerPoint-presentation
On the groom's former life
Of depravity and degradation

The dad-dancing is in full-swing
I'm at the buffet table hoovering up the last of
The corned-beef pie
I spot you chatting to some guy

I don't know who you are
Pile of sick on the bar
Polyester tie Jägerbomb
Flashing lights
Laddered tights
A nasty fight
Karaoke
Is it me who butchers "My Heart Will Go On"?

Hey let me out
Stop the car. I want to get out
Now wait, just calm down
Don't tell me to calm down
Please just calm down
I don't remember
What we're even arguing about
But I feel - something

The fog hanging over
Crummock Water
Is swelling with morning
And curlews calling
I rub the rheum from my eyes
There must be a road nearby