future wheel-chair accidentts

(Kitchn at Cornwall Rd, Bristoll, Nov 2008)

i had a little set-up
well i was sat up gone 2 o'clock
with a sad and littered beat
counting ticks and taking stock
whilst at every bar i'd been
the open-mic was a juke box
but no-one knew th songs
and even th management couldn't tell
how many pennies
were took from the tip-jar
like wishes from a well
And yore only 8 yrs old son
and stealing int a sin
but the cat on the rusted roof
thinks you should quit the violin
and if you take a ride with yore future
it'll be in a wheel-chair
you know that someone, at some point
is going to push you down the stairs
And no-one suspects a mother
but there're only so many tears
to be shed for a boy pissing from th garden,
on the neighbours doorstep all these years.

So i had a little set up, playing
to a sad and littered beat
from the ticking clock and a twitching tapdance
of two broken, rhythmless feet.
i sang a song to an empty stage
of kitchen tiles and cigarette ends
and if it all sounded too sombre
it was just to
keep in step with modern trends.

Now here's to the broke lock
and the cold floor
damp in the corner
and badly-fit door
yesterdays newspapers
and the pages we still care for
and the beat that i've milked until its teats
were no longer sweet
but hard and sore.

Conan Doyles most famous, 6 letters