Trashed elbow

The siren was singing to me because that's what she does...

It wouldn't take me long
To tell you how to find it
To tell you where we'll meet
This little girl inside me
Is retreating to her favourite place

Go into the garden
Go under the ivy
Under the leaves
Away from the party
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
(For me)

I sit here in the thunder
The green on the grey
I feel it all around me
And it's not easy for me
To give away a secret
It's not safe

But go into the garden
Go under the ivy
Under the leaves
Away from the party
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
(For me)

Go into the garden
Go under the ivy
Go under the leaves with me
Go right to the rose
Go right to the white rose
I'll be waiting for you

It wouldn't take me long

I was deaf to her words, deaf to everything, alone in the centre of the dark desert and in the top bulb of the hour glass; until the shrill buzzing came.

My eyes peeled open and I was once again in my unruly cloister, alarm ringing, a nest of hornets in my ears. I checked to see if I'd managed to bring a handful of sand back with me as evidence: I hadn't.

Further investigation revealed that I'd slept fully clothed again, damn that demon drink, that sweet, sweet sorceress.

I rolled over toward the sound of my shrill tormenter and found a pair of chopsticks on my pillow, the paper sheaf identifying them as having been purloined from the previous night's bar.

Well, I thought, stranger things have happened.

I turned off the alarm and rolled over onto my other side and found that I was looking at a further ELEVEN pairs of stolen chopsticks.

Stranger things indeed; I don't think I'll be going back to Torikizoku for a while.