Soaked by the rains
and poked in the eye by the people
as I flow into the drains
and what do they gain
from the pleasure of seeing poor men feeling the pain?

In the laundromat where I dry off my pieces and start to think that
the World is unfair
and I'm afraid of drying my hair in the drying machine
because the temperature's hot
and I've only got a couple of quid
just enough for a bottle to get rid of the taste
that I taste in the waste and the water of streets.

It's a rinse and wash cycle and around I will go
into the jaws of depression where everything's so
down
and down on a template where nothing is rated and I don't even count
I am mounted on tape and put in a booklet and in case I forget
it's available on Amazon,
The story of John and the the things that went on
in the cul de sac where there was no hope of heading back
and the lack of direction which was locked in suspension
and extended detention.

I have a secret
do you want to know?
would you like to travel down avenues where the junkies use
daylight as a midnight binder
would you find in it something to make you think you'd bring the answer to a table
could you allow for the language that melts even plastic and the discarded cards of the die hards and addicts and if you picked up the lingo do you really think that you'd go into the den of the demons?

Do you want to follow through shallows and into the bellows of bellowing madmen who with not a thought of the where or the when just the now and the how and the eyes that would grace you then steal as you walked through?

In this soaked state I am in where the sin starts to dry and in quite equal measures to the amount that I cry
there is always a why and a solution to buy
but it's always too late
for the few who can't wait
and the rain keeps on coming while those people keep running
and I flow down the drains.