Bullet Park

We were in the last museum
No warmer than the world outside
And we saw in the last display-
A picture of the last ride of humankind
Outside is cold, cold grey
We put away the day
And tightened up the sky-
So nothing gets through
Insipid faces stare at the jawbox
And dreary mouths quote stock exchange
And tired fingers pass tired bills;
Then one day all is gone
And weary legs walk blackened hills
We walked into bullet park
No colder than the world inside
We touched holes in dead trees
Where shots had passed through warm flesh
Then cold breeze