The bottle-message smashed at the foot of the stairs,   A glass-like invitation to God-knows-where,   As the photograph made my conscience laugh,   I sat down in the kitchen and cried.      The location’s strange and I dread my fate,   Caught the rain-soaked hinged on the rusted gate,      But the map was wrong, and my head was strong,   Emotions like someone had died.      But I spat it out,   This bitter pill.   And I eased it out,   All against my will.      The seats with dust-clothing all looked the same,   Before the chandelier rose and the opera changed,   And the memory of what used to be,   As if some one concocted a lie.      Be-spectacled thinker with a headache grey tape,   When the whirr-loop flickered I made my escape,   From reality to some fantasy,   Emotions like I want to die.      But I spat it out,   This bitter pill.   And I eased it out,   All against my will.      The faded grey shadows re-enact the past,   Some big murder trial to be solved at last,   But the tale gets worse, defendant has a curse,   And he only has one more lie.      The focal character took a break from the screen,   Like he’d woken from some dreadful dream,   Alfie-like gesture, forgotten ancestor,   Sat down in the theatre and cried.      And he spat it out,   That bitter pill.   And he eased it out.   All against his will.   And I spat it out,   This bitter pill.   And I eased it out,   All against my will.