Doom From A Room

by Clive James and Pete Atkin

Like a saint on the fire
Like a guru's funeral pyre
Just a blur
Thoughts occur
In a slur

Like a fog on the bay
Like a hog washed away
It's a mist
But the gist
Might exist

Like a cat on a rail
Like the next note up the scale
Count to ten
Pause and then
Down again

Like a poet in a loft
Like a sherbet growing soft
Easy now
You've been a wow
Take a bow