Hail mighty drops of rain Septic from the summer sky A sky the hue of gunship grey A storm that never meets the eye Somewhere a tree deep in a forest Is stricken by a lightning ball But in this stuffy, rancid city Scrapers rise but never fall. Soaken to my nettle skin, Down hill looms my dreary den And with it a torrent, fecal brown, To meet the Fleet down drains of men Up I gaze to the topmost crib, Curtains hide the stinkin' lung The mustard walls that once were cream Except for where a picture hung. But something here is quite amiss I blink and rub my plasma eyes A blue plaque at the window side What joke is this, what low surprise? My sodden hand leaves door to slam I bend to check the chain of mail I curse out at the water bill And turn to face old Widow Frail Ahem... Has she seen the plaque upon the wall The Devil's work or council same? She moves like lightning through the door And shouts, "You must be quite insane!" "What joke is this? I'm soaken through, There's nowt up thur but brick n' moss If you've got me on camera film I'll trip you up with dental floss, Plaque indeed!" Evening finds me low and dry Staring at my masterpiece The siren bottle locked and chained, Waiting for a quick release What road to take? What path to tread? What course of thought? What haunting dread? What deity will lend an ear? What talisman have I to wield? To fail is now my crushing fear Broken is my trusty shield. The stringed angel I once loved Stands silent in the pallid gloom An affair that ended long ago Yet still we share this very room This very room Where test-tubes bubbled The mad professor The sound of stink The crazy natured genius, To think that one day... Oh to think. And there she lies In her plastic coat Hiding every perfect note Go forth my whore, Betray, betray, I suppose you will be cast away. The dead of night, Paralysis Such terror I have never known A cloaked figure nigh the bed, The quickening of metronome A ghastly face A cackling laugh Old Widow Frail Inside the plaque The figure starts to dissipate, And so returns unto the black, Black, black of night. Awoken by a thunder clap, Unceasing rain that beats on pane A twisted, fatty, muddled head Must feel like this To the living slain I stumble down the tricky stairs Umbrella poised still fighting sleep Appraoch the door of Widow Frail And tiptoe past the old crone's heap, And breathe... Eternal twilight, morning damp I wade across the river road And glance back to my window high There's no blue plaque on my abode, But wait! What of my masterpiece? She must not bide nor I delay To this end I must release The dream of every yesterday. The work of art placed in the bag Once more I creep past Widow's door I cross the now congested road And glance back as I did before What trick is this? The plaque is back A faint, translucent disk of mist It holds my stare, It holds my mind, I try my upmost to resist Heedless of the traffic now And drops upon the canopy A statue in the pouring rain Spellbound by iniquity Inside the disk appears a face Bearded with a toothy grin Balding with long flowing hair I know that face, It's Dick Rubin! Enlightenment doth warm the soul How could I have been so dim? A bell takes one almighty toll The masterpiece must go to him. The face then morphs back into mist The blue plaque now solidifies There's lettering upon the disk And I can not believe my eyes, My name! My name in beveled font, Lived here from... Splash! Infected water stings my eyes Laughter fades with the engine sound I look up to the magic place But there's no blue plaque to be found Just Widow Frail beside herself Cackling like a witch in flight She throws the window open wide And shouts down, "Well, it serves you right!" I smile and then I take a bow The storms have turned these days so strange In the dark I've seen the light There's one detail I need to change And maybe after I am gone A blue plaque really will hang there I suppose I'll never really know, I suppose I'll never really care.