she always loved breakfast in parkhurst
summertime especially
cigarette in hand
shades on
but then autumn came
and everything turned red
the same shade as her lipstick
the dogs stopped passing by
and then winter came
she sat there every sunday morning
vovo telo
sipping on her coffee, waiting as it got cold
as cold as his heart when he left her
but then it was spring
and flowers grew back
and the smiles started arriving again
and all she could do was sit there
every sunday
waiting for something that not even she knew

They put poppies on the government dungheap
but it still smells of ****.

If we misbehaved
if we did our worst
we'd be somebody's *****
and doing time in Parkhurst,

but for them,
the Bollinger brigade
those who can walk on water
they've got it made.

the revolution is overdue.