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?