i am henry crayons

I am Henry Crayons
my old dear called me that
shes gone now rest her soul
followed her dream and watched it play out on a super 8
I am Henry Crayons
my old man dont call me that
hes in farnham now
followed a woman and watched the romance play out
after monday night quizzes inbetween midnight snatches
of afternoon delight his dreams fade onto the forgotten pebble shores
of a margate dawn
In the Gore, the tide runs till 12 o'clock
but flows upon the land at 11, swollen
eyes of the boys on a friday night
they come back for more The marks for anchoring in westgate bay are scratched driftwood onto the teenage skin of all of his sons