The other night as I sat in the living room with the window open to let through a breeze that never came, a sad sound drifted between the curtains. At first I thought the ice cream man, delivering frozen treats after hours was perhaps trying his best to limit the familiar tones of which ice cream vans in England are synonymous.
But then the next day he was back, and this time a lot earlier…
Ice cream man
In your ice cream van
With your music so
slow
A music box
on its last few turns
To let the people
Know
Each note a tear
The pain I hear
As you try to crack a
Smile
The rain to blame
No sales again
The cash flow turned to
Ice
This is where you are and this is what we're doing 
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