Fogwalking

Everything clumsy slow-motion
I look for the source
Buildings loom up like icebergs
On collision course
I don't want to go in there
I just want to be alone
Unpick the stitches of time
In London
In the no-go zone.

I've been kicking around like a dog
Lost myself in the blank mass of fog
It's some kind of service
All humanity's fall-out is there
Slumped in doorways
And mouthing cold air
I have heard this.

Fogwalking, fogwalking.

Since the curfew
The streets are half-dead
All the good folk asleep in their beds
It's so easy to go off the rails
When the fog spores
Are breeding inside by head.

Fogwalking: there's a presence that I sense
Fogwalking: the neck muscles tense
Fogwalking: it's right here inside me
Try to find a defense - oh, no.

Fogwalking through the wreckage
Fogwalking through the worm-eaten Night Apple
Fogwalking through what used to be
Whitechapel.