Poppy

I’m sick and tired of feeling strange, so I’ll turn it round and make a change. 
Im on the track away from pain away from the cold dark smack, to my face which has been my bane. To the lungs but not the vein. 
However you see it it still gripped the brain. 
Still caused me to stutter, caused my strength to wane.
Either I make my mark in life or just become another stain.
So from now on from temptation I will refrain, because my life I must regain.
Life wasn’t black and white. It was white and brown, the only way is up when your feeling this down. 
The cunning lead, the weak will follow. Im sick and tired of having to beg,steal and borrow.
I’m on this train away from sorrow and I won’t get off until the morrow.
I’m hoping now you’ll understand why I must take this journey and I need you to take my hand.

Dan

Here’s the story of Dan from Hackney Marsh. Life wasn’t too good It was dark and harsh. 
Haunted by the shadowy figure from his past,
but he didn’t want to talk when he was asked. 
Mother tried and Dad wasn’t around so who is the figure that’s getting this man down? 
Is it some old friend or some old foe? 
When we talk he just pretends not to know.
So I ask his friends about the figure, so dark and slow.
He did good at school never any trouble. Seems like my efforts I must double. 
I keep on asking, I need to know. Who this figure is, so dark and slow.
One day I see Dan sitting in the snow, so I ask again about the figure so dark and slow. 
He begins to weep and his wailing grows, while he tells me of the figure so dark and slow.
”I was in this gang and we attacked this girl” He can’t go on and begins to hurl.
I grab him by the throat heart black as the eyes of a crow. 
”Who Is the figure so dark and slow?” 
He’d forgotten what he’d done he’d put that memory on a shelf. He wasn’t running from me he was running from himself. 
”My sister she was the girl that you know I cradled her head on these steps you sit below.” 
I put my knife in his neck and and I paint the snow. 
Into the night I walk so dark and slow.

Love

London

My fuckin head is fukin mash, just trying to earn some fukin cash. 
I fucking scratch and fuking scrape, I fucking wait and fucking wait. 
On my own every day, tryin to get this fukin pay.
Agents send me here and there, but i know they don’t fukin care.
Standin round like a clown, stuck in fuckin London town. 
The housing thing is never safe,sleep on couches round at mates.
Bloody women get me down, I turn to white I turn to brown. 
But kick that shit in the fukin face, cos life aint here just to waste.
So fuck your fucking nine to five. I’d rather fucking feel alive. 
Held high and hide that frown,
Cos soon I’ll be fucking London town.

Death

One thing I fear above all else, is not to be poor or forgotten or all by myself. 
I fear the cold dark end, I fear the unknown. I fear the fact that I am just flesh and bone. 
My time will come, I just dont know when or how.
Because death is a master eventually to whom we all must bow. 
You cannot outrun it it cannot be bought, it feels no sympathy can’t be bartered with or fought. 
So when my time comes I’ll accept my fate, until then I live my life because death won’t wait. 
From the hard but right path i hope not to stray.
Because this is a debt all man must pay.