It’s a night in the cells
And it’s ten little deaths in the morning
It’s the hunger I felt
In your flat on Columbia Road
It’s my dignity in your cutlery drawer
It’s the sound of the crowd not begging for more
The beat of my heart is hard and loud but
When did it start to slow down?
There was mud on your knees
Where you gave, and received,
Your communion
From the bridge we could see
All the lights in the city go out
You lay back so far you could feel the curve of the earth
My hands all over you, on the floor of the church
The beat of my heart is hard and loud
When did it start to slow down?
When I knew we wouldn’t make it?
When I hoped we wouldn’t save it?
It’s a climb to the top
Then the shock of the ground
The beat of my heart is hard and loud
When did it start to slow down?
Beat of my heart
Hard and loud
When did it start to slow down?
“It’s a climb to the top, then the shock of the ground”. Downhill tells a familiar tale of anticipation and disappointment, full of late night indiscretions and early morning walks of shame. There’s not much else to say, except that it wasn’t my dignity in her cutlery drawer, it was a sock.
