Last Orders from No. 5 by Kirsty McGee

a heavy rifle magazine
find the name and scratch it clean
i'm waiting till the orders come

take the bullets from the sheaf
hide the papers underneath
till the orders come

slit the sky with flashing blade
beam as cold as lemonade
watch the insects in the light
they circle round and then ignite

wash your face before your hands
in the hollow of the sand
when the orders come

take good care and take good time
every breath a living wine
till the orders come

clouds move over, fine as lace,
so the colour leaves the face
when the orders come

punch the sky with bullet bright
on this sorrowful, bright night
flip your satchel by your side, hide

cross the ground, then thrust, then fly
leave them in the dirt to die
till the orders come

• Acoustic
• americana
• folk
• folk indie
• hobopop
• songwriter
• Manchester