Lack of quality in the final third,

is the one phrase I wish I’d never heard.

Trotted out by pundits lost for words,

the useful and useless so casually blurred.

Quality player, quality ball,

Peter please stop, we’ve heard them all.

When City don't score, they hardly ever win,

Michael, cheers for stating the bleeding obvious thing.

Why if a player hits the ball too...

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Thinking about the times

we spent chatting in the pub,

thinking I might have talked

just a bit too much,

and I'm thinking about

how I blew a chance forever.

Thinking about the time

you could have spent in my heart,

but we never got together

or made a real start,

thinking about the you

I never got to know better, and

even though we could

have...

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My cluttered chaos is full

of every obsession I’ve ever met,

filled up in every safe place

and angular dark recess.

Furnished with retired vinyl,

CD’s and used up books. Featuring

the songs and subjects

that grabbed me with their tender hooks.

Memorabilia revealing

my secret space of dreams

with no dividing walls

and awkward ceiling beams.

Diffi...

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