The palm reader that works from the pier,
She asked me inside her stifling booth
And looked at my hand with a frown on her face.
It’ll all be okay, she said in a hurry
But I knew that she lied as I scurried away
To eat fish and chips from greasy papers
As I scavenged over her potent expression.
I couldn’t quite shake the look in her eyes
And I wondered what horrors she had seen for me.
I licked at my fingers and scrunched the wrappers
And headed to an inn where a murder would happen.