With our rings
Of gold 
And our hearts
Of silver
And our lead boots
Waiting
To trudge 
Out to sea 
We pour through
The gaps
Spill through 
The fissures
Spitting and
Snarling
And bleeding
We glare 
At the pirates
As we shuffle
Forwards
To collect 
Our pieces of 
Eight 
And we punch 
Our drunkeness 
Into the faulty 
Machine 
Mechanically logging in 
To the clockwork
We all so despise
And waste 
Another day
Running in circles
Away from ourselves
Hiding in holes
Away from the light
Until last orders 
Is called
And we
Can
Check
Out
Unsatisfied
Unfulfilled 
Broken into pieces
Of our own
Undoing
Why do you think
She put roses
In our
Garden