Ripping the Heart out of Salford.

Went in search of 'The Angel of the North' today down at the Quays but he was nowhere to be found and is still officially MIA. I'm just hoping that rumours of his blip retirement are premature and that his hiatus isn't permanent..

The poem below is about as close as Johnny Clarke gets to penning a love poem.. So I'll dedicate this one to my nearest and dearest Cryno..

'One kiss became a weapon.
I don't want to bleed in vain.
Clouds collide in the heavens,
I surrender. To the rain.
The death bells that also rang,
like madness... from above.
I'm going... out with a bang,
and a heart disease called love.

Ninety-nine, below zero,
would seem like fever now.
You know me... no hero,
don't even ask me how.
I'm down in the deep deep freeze,
what was I thinking of...
In the painful breeze,
by the frozen trees,
with a heart disease called love.

After dinner. Mints. A new lover,
and the coffee's so bitter and black.
Your fingerprints... they cover,
this knife sticking out of my back.
You overlooked... the fine details.
You should've worn your gloves.
I've got a girl in jail, and a house for sale,
and a heart disease called love.'

John Cooper-Clarke