Feb 2011 Poem by Rebecca Stansfield

No storm and no winter,
No cold or happy sun,
- Clockwise it seems we're happy,
But we're not living clockwise.

Anti clockwise, living.
Acting different, better off.

And time in living clockwise,
Means reality hits us more.
When real life really matters,
Matters coming through the door.

I pretend I'm livng clockwise,
For aslong as I can manage.

But it merley lasts a second,
And I bump into my enemies,
Which tell me to run out of England
To run out of England, Quick.