where the 113 is not for me


The best is 3 Downing Street;

It was so funny but a lot of people arnt experienced.

The police boats pass,

and the Oyster Bird sings,

When gradually all the lights shine

at 9pm. The turning and the tuning – on and on.

Don’t eat anything – take the nicotine,

It hits you quicker at one;

…But don’t trust anyone.

Inhale and exhale as the text begins to blur

I was like “Oh shit, and you can see my breasts”.

But the red glows firmly now – but still talks the talk like a chat magazine.

It’s the end of the line, and the golden flame disappears,

sailing slowly, the opposite drawing near.

The naked body of the ‘Making Life Easier’ – the tornado clipper

As the Great British flag blows.

The waves are turning harder now, as the current takes control

It passes and eases but the red still signals where the architecture will lay –

10 years time or so.

But where will you be when it gets colder, when the fingers turn purple?

And there’s nothing left to see.

Walk the beat at your very own pace, and feel it from,

this very ginger spirit den, where the 113 is not for me.




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