Long ago when Mercury descended high on the moon.
Far below where little hands are making shapes in the room.
The shadows they dance and they cheer up this place.
The face that’s staring through a tiny crack in the door.
Eyes so wide he’s never seen a woman fall on the floor.
I swear daddy’s killed her this time.
Should I make a rocket?
Should I try to fly away?
Should I make a hammer?
Should I try to smash his face?
Should I make a bullet?
Should I try to shoot the gun?
I’m sure the judge will let me off real soon.
Long ago when Saturn tried to find a way past the sun.
Deep inside a little boy is turning pain into fun.
The pencils the crayons the paint colours run.
The plans are forming slowly made with scissors with glue.
Eyes so wide he’s telling mummy all the things he can do.
He’ll sketch a contraption to save them for sure.
He can draw an alien.
He can come and take them home.
He can draw a cartoon.
He can draw a safety hatch.
He can draw a hot bath.
He can plug a toaster in and wait ‘till daddy’s nice and warm
And toss it in.
And then when he’s gone there’s a Neverland of fun.
Take a loaded gun.
Take a shot of rum.
Take a poison rat.
There’s a lesson in that.
No more closing fists.
No more face to hit.
No more bloody nose or apologetic roses.
Long ago when Mercury descended high on the moon.
Should I make a rocket?
Should I try to fly away?
Far below little hands are making shapes in the room.
Should I make a hammer?
Should I try to smash his face?
Long ago when Saturn tried to find a way past the sun.
Should I draw a cartoon?
Should I draw an alien?
Deep inside a little boy is turning pain into fun.
Should a draw a hot bath?
Should I throw the toaster in?