A New Kind Of Carpet Called 'Poets Eyesore' (Ex. Hinterlands) Poem by GRANT FRASER

Let's go. we're going, don't ask where,
We're going up there...
That place don't even know what it means?
But we've been deciding for centuries,
Let's go - that's it, this time, last orders,
Come on down, I want to hear it!
Show us your hearts - are they true enough,
C'mon - it's going to have be better than that,
Disclose, C'mon! open - show us it all...
We can handle it, we will, we can...
The nut is cracked, but never open,
Racked! racked! racked! racked! racked!
With the same old things,
Closets overflowing, privacy, conspiracy,
Are you really guilty of all that - thing,
That emptiness - whirling round,
In the deepest compartment of your mind,
Fill it now, stuff it, jam it shut with anything,
Moan! Squeak! Squawk! Skirl!
It's a girl? - No it's a boy!
It's something my friends, to be born -
And be fed nothing but crumbs...