The half-backflip conception State hospital birth The most threadbare, tall story The country has ever heard Brought home to breath smoke In the arms of her mother The blunt kitchen knife Who just lays in a submissive position Beneath a national weight And the slow arc of a fist Her heart beats like a breezeblock
Thrown down the stairs Her blood is thicker than concrete Forced to be brave, she was Born into a grave And in the limp through years of bored schooling She’s accustomed to hearing that she could never run far A slipped disc in the spine of community A bloody curse word in a pedestrian verse Spirits in graveyards and fingers in car parks She cries on the high street just to be heard. A screaming anchor for nothing in particular At the foot of the fuck of it Dragging her heels in the dirt Her heart beats like a breezeblock Thrown down the stairs Her blood is thicker than concrete Forced to be brave, she was Born into a grave The cheek of youth flashed red and turned grey Now she lies on the pavement she is helped to her feet All thighs, hair and magpie handbags Saturday’s uniform for the ‘fuck me’ parade Brought home to keep warm In the arms of a plumber, ruddy and balding Who just needs a spine to dig in to A chest for the head and a hand for the holding Her heart beats like a breezeblock
Thrown down the stairs Her skin is thicker than concrete Forced to be brave, she was A broken elevator anthem Held between floors But if blood is thicker than concrete All is not lost. All is not lost.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
