Somewhere on Mayfair pavements amongst the flock of drones, a jelly necked vagrant lay dead on polystyrene, dressed in shadows from Versace and copper they flicked. His Labrador licked him, then changed from gold to blue. Barking and biting at neon reapers who took away his master muzzling his grief. Embedded in the vagrants palm was a medal from King George. The pauper box is planed. Lets just bury him he's shrapnel for our conscience and I'm late for my meeting.