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David KeenanDavid Keenan 

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David Keenan

David Keenan (born April 1971) is a Scottish author, critic and musician. He is the author of England's Hidden Reverse, a biography of Coil, Current 93 and Nurse with Wound, a regular contributor to The Wire since 1995. He used to run Volcanic Tongue. His novel For the Good Times won the 2019 Gordon Burn Prize. more »

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Remonstrations, I set out to bridge the gap from head to mouth
And as the wind stank from the south, we turned to face the morning
A cubist bruise upon your leg informed me of the war you fled
Must I now dance for scraps of bread at the table of your denial
You let me in with stolen keys, the weak the whiplashed came in threes
All pleading for some clarity and new life into their lungs
Our necks like tangled swans all calm above the water all above board for now at least
There's specks of paint chipped off the walls
The mirror has lied since Valentine's
But as soon as we speak openly new hope it is restored
We've been around the blocks, the lanes, the sky has been pockmarked by the cranes
No one's too lost, no one's to blame for wanting to be loved
We want to be with love, we want to be with love
As it is written off
Look at you, you're better now
That anaphylactic shaking scowl has altered
Into something that could fill an empty space
This city stinks of sex and weed
The narrow minded streets recede revealing some new truths to me
If you give a dog a bone it may follow you home and claim you led it on
There's specks of paint chipped off the walls
The mirror has lied since Valentine's
But as soon as we speak openly new hope it is restored
We've been around the blocks, the lanes, the sky's still pockmarked by the cranes
No one's too lost, no one's to blame for wanting to be loved
We want to be with love, we want to be with love
As it is written off

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