Struggle of the unwanted
only the top-shelfer's get to lead a caviar lifestyle
while the likes of me and kid bro'
only had weeks old lard
to scrape off the fly dance floor
of a battered frying pan
to dress a stale crust or two most days
we had no rationing war to blame
no home loving parents at hand if ever
to cast our aspersions on
and the last of the worth small money things
we tried to conceal from the debt collectors
didn't stay that way
for more than next to no time.
Shit childhood years over
but memory dressed I continue doing my utmost
to believe that somewhere among the near sweet fuck-all to live on
love was hiding too frightened to show itself
in case it wouldn't be recognised by us
and that we would kill it
in the same way, others had done
sad lessons we wrongly learned, copycat style.