Sw4

The lights have all turned red

on holloway road

a pale vision of inertia

in cold halogen glow

The last clapham bound train

is waiting to leave

but the engine-driver's fallen

asleep at the wheel

When i picked up the phone

my hopes were put on hold

the outgoing wires were humming

my heart was growing cold

No rattling of keys

no break before the dawn

i still wait for my relief

what's taking him so long?