What is it?
It’s bow’s orange sunset spring,
That quick step groove down the Grove Road,
It’s the blue smoke glamour of crack slab urban bohemia,
The richest man alive doesn’t have a penny,
And I’m looking to cash in on his wisdom,
Looking out for the wise in his eyes and the ice in his next drink,
And his next drink,
And his next drink,
And his next drink,
I watch the world, its tower blocks headbutting the skyline,
So stitch that,
That slit in the sky like a knife gash, and a fallen sixties leather jacket,
The tenements so unlovely and kitsch,
And the people rolling on in our colours and classes, classes and colours,
The beats of New London,
Twisted by the bitter rhythm of the wrong education,
In the big schools,
On the bigger grey gothic, pink plastic flower estates,
Twizzling our biros and cashing our giros,
And it’s tupence for your philosophy,
And tupence for your dreams,
Fair ye unwell on the welfare,
And the state is a fair man-made maid,
It understands the sweet sickly pleasure of melancholy,
The malign happiness of the horrors,
Lick die happiness of the horrors,
Delights in the mystery of it’s own misery,
A modern love,
So here we are,
The fucked generation,
At the fag-end of the 20th century A.D.,
Young and still breathing,
But now it’s a trial,
Cause we tried it all and we’re tired by it all,
Too much, too young, too often, too many times,
And it’s too late,
But we’re not surrendering though,
Fuck no we’re not,
We’re on the offensive,
On all fours in the puddles of No Man’s Land,
And in that manner we move to the rhythms of ice cream vans playing ‘oranges and lemons’,
And police sirens spinning and waking their mythical wails,
Calling us to ourselves,
Opium for the elite,
Yeah, and there’s his illegitimate brother,
Inexpensively smacking the kids of Stepney, at a cost,
So let’s step out now, you and I,
Let’s go now and stay a while,
Underneath the sun,
A council street lamp left on in the middle of the day,
Tussling with gravity, branding skin,
And it will tussle and brand, tussle and brand until it explodes.
Tussle and brand until the sun explodes.

 

Doherty, Pete

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