Loch Leven

The rain pissed down on Leven's shores The sane rain would rain on superstores And set off car alarms in our street Let's burn our clothes and hunt our meat A day of skies, a day of feasts We fell to bed, to grunt like beasts We could live in your wee car We could never go too far A flash of sun between your thighs A perfect black shape to protect my eyes A swooping hawk, a dying tree "Fuck me," says he, "fuck you," says she If i'm a clown, then you're a mime But I'm sure that we'd be friends in time The selkie put her skin back on And swam away, back to her own