Stopping,

most people on a flying train

would ‘get’ that space is time

- that space is limited,

- that time is ticking fast;

and an emptier tunnel is coming,

where (at a moment when brakes won’t work)

the tracks run out and we don’t know

who will steer or drive the engine on

but if you ask Andrew

to stop singing and dancing

he’ll look direct and quizzical

to say ‘Oh what!?’ and then ask

the big bad ask we all could ask;

‘Are you mad, mate, are you mad?’