I return to Brighton and I talk to the sea.

This time I am alone, no gangs, only me.

Out of season I tread on pebble and stone.

So disillusioned with life, I wander alone.

 

I revisit our Café for cups of tea and a pill.

No sound of laughter, just the ring of a till.

Only a few people brave the desolate shore.

A swimmer fights a wave, the rain does pour.

 

I walk down the alley, where a man I became.

To me it was special, but to her just a game.

My clothes stand out, but today nobody cares.

I miss the adulation, the brawls and the stares.

 

To my horror, I see my hero loaded with case.

My illusion shattered, he’s just another ‘face’

No bike, no girl, no family now a hero lost too.

I struggle with reality, no dreams to come true.

 

From my fragile mind there's nowhere to hide.

On stolen wheels towards the white cliffs I ride.

I approach the cliffs edge at break neck speed.

This life of constant let downs do I really need?