Music in bare squatters cupboards

I have been
Spending some time
Searching for your rhyme
But the poetry has gone from you
And yesterday
Is not today
There’s no rhythm in the words you use
Your eyes are far away
Your song has lost its melody
Our rock and roll has had its day
The graffiti on our walls and doors
Has nothing profound to say
And yesterday has been and gone
gone
Tomorrow we will angle out into the world like sprouts from musty potatoes kept in the dark
Already dead but just not knowing it
You will cook me stew with dumplings
And I will eat it, even if you put swede in it.