This was the scrublands, the mad lands, the bad lands
She had fled to with all of her might like she could
Scrub off the madness and the badness in her
It was no surprise that all that befell her was bleak
And unrepentant, like her shattering, shivering, heart
The scrublands were after all a wasteland, nothing but
Grass that has got sick of growing but is too tired to die,
Withered, old, like an old man’s fingers, or his white splayed
Beard, these are the mad lands of her imagination,
Shopping trolley parked, danger, there might be needles
In the scrublands, the bad lands, she was always taught
To fear, but here, slowly, she comes to her senses
Hears the wail of a passing train across the metal fences
Barbed wire to keep it away, or to keep her off the tracks?
She’s drenched in a kind of frenzy, she must, she must get away
But all routes had led her here, and she wonders, will she
Have to spend her nights under cardboard, her days begging
With a paper cup? Spare any change? Any change at all?
But nothing changes, and that is why she is here, stood,
Confronting, every little thing that she fears, on the scrublands
The bad lands, the mad lands her parents told her not to go to
But she went anyway, she had to see what they were like, there’s
A bright light fuzzing, bright and blue, buzzing as the dusk
Falls down and the disappearing afternoon turns colder
Someone’s switched off the heating, there’s no leaving,
She’s rooted to the spot, the cops whizz past and she’s alone
Alone, like she’s always wanted to be left, how did the world
Turn so ugly, so brutal, so bereft? Where is the beauty that
Can be adored, here in the shadows at the end of the world
The world that man has made and abandoned, no one stops
To think, they pass it with a shiver, and a shudder, they don’t
Remember, oh, the effort it is to recall, that girl
In her desperation, and her flighty fall, down in front of
The rails, she had climbed the fence after all
It was not so insurmountable, although her desperation was,
And the scrublands had driven her there, the mad lands
And the bad lands that had turned the scenery of her mind
Rancid and rotten, they had broken her, until they were the
Sad lands, the lonely lands, which she could not come back from at all.

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