Fogwalking

Everything clumsy slow-motion,

I look for the source.

Buildings loom up like icebergs

On collision course.

I don't want to go in there,

I just want to be alone,

Unpick the stitches of time

In London

In the no-go zone.

I've been kicking around like a dog,

Lost myself in the blank mass of fog,

It's some kind of service.

All humanity's fall-out is there,

Slumped in doorways

And mouthing cold air -

I have heard this.

Fogwalking, fogwalking.

Since the curfew

The streets are half-dead,

All the good folk asleep in their beds,

It's so easy to go off the rails

When the fog spores

Are breeding inside by head.

Fogwalking: there's a presence that I sense

Fogwalking: the neck muscles tense

Fogwalking: it's right here inside me,

Try to find a defense - oh, no.

Fogwalking through the wreckage,

Fogwalking through the worm-eaten Night Apple,

Fogwalking through what used to be

Whitechapel.