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Sun went down,
Drinking at the dreadnought,
Nothing turned out quite the way you thought it would,
Knuckles red and crusty,
All the pictures gather dust,
He doesn’t write, he doesn’t care,
There’s this sense of niggling doubt,
Everything you care about,
Is just some elaborate joke at your expense,
The pride you feel is broken,
The land you say you love was choked,
By your embrace.

Cupid’s Bow, Neck Tattoo,
“England belongs to you”
But what the fuck is England anyway oh yeah,
But empty words and empty gestures,
That loyalty, it festers, it festers.

Words still ringing in your ears
“It never did me any harm”,
Ditched PE to hide the bruises on your arm,
Not so skinny anymore,
Wish he’d turn up at the door,
Like the social worker did.

Widow’s Peak, Neck Tattoo
England belongs to you,
And all who show their pride in seven shades oh yeah,
Empty words and empty gestures,
That loyalty, it festers, it festers, it festers.
This is not what you were promised,
Jerusalem.

Is something sacred here among,
These dark satanic retail parks?
Are we accountable to none,
While our adventures leave their mark,
Did holy feet in ancient times,
Endow a glory in this soil,
Capricious markings on a map,
Fickle, selfish, violent, spoiled,
Jerusalem, blood and vomit on the concrete.

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