Ballad To The Londonite
It’s a shit day,
You don’t get paid for another month
Bills spilling outta your pockets and into your socks
And that tramp on Walworth Road’s got better luck.
You’ve only got £1.20 on the oyster card,
you’ll be walking to the oyster bar,
It’s replaced by a shop that sells old guitars, or caviar thank your lucky stars.
Back to the high street now you’re in the Wetherspoons
Where the teens look like they’re ready for the tomb
The sound of sky sports fills the holy room,
their eyes are glued, All Hail to the team in blue.
You’ve left your wallet in a club, on the loo
It doesn’t matter you can’t afford the tube
Some pretty girls ask if you can hold their shoes
That sports car’s yours, they assume
Back to your place? They enquire sweetishly,
You decline and say you’re fixing the TV
the truth is your council flat’s appallingly –
Always attacked, and your neighbour’s on smack.
You feel like you’re in a balloon,
if it bursts chaos will ensue.
Let’s hope that people will not notice
that your life’s not gold, it’s just black and blue.