Strutting shoes in dust and spit
The boys make their way in scented air
This is home to the gravel pits

The intercity snakes with a thwack and a hiss
Cuts through the night without a care
Strutting shoes in dust and spit

Dead-dogs in bags and lean stray cats
Bashed old cars with their smashed glass glare
This is home to the gravel pits

Toking butts he smiles, so fit
through smoke with eyes that stir, arms bare
Strutting shoes in dust and spit

Then with cuts and grazes running, swinging sticks
A skirmish with the out-group, ****** warfare
This is home to the gravel pits

I stand here, look back and see it-
Turning for home in the cooled night air
Strutting shoes in dust and spit
This was home to the gravel pits