The Invisible Man

The Invisible Man

His cruel thin lips on a cigarette
The smoke-screen hides his eyes
He has no time for religious son of a bitches
Or for rules of any kind

Still the ghost of William Tell lingers
Over a trail of bullets in the half-light
They always lead back to the same place
And bring the same old demons tonight

But the guilt and fear can be re-worked
And shaped into something else
It becomes a new way of life
And his one and only sense of self

Invisible in the neighbourhood
He passes in phantom grey
No one can really see him
He can disappear behind the rain

6th Jan 2015