Lollipop and cigarette.

 

Hoodies are up,

And Trackies are down,

Slung snugly over skinny waist,

An Old man frowns.

 

Checkin’ out the talent,

Walk down to the park,

The night still ours,

Though it’s well after dark,

 

Kick the swings,

Pissing in bushes,

We’ll save ourselves,

Our own precious ‘tushes’

 

But forget the digs,

Forget the graffiti,

Our group ein’t nothing,

but respect-ability.

 

Leave the suburbs,

Out on the town,

Wasted and stumbling

Similar kids around.

 

On the way back,

We’ll stop for a toke,

Trash trolleys in rivers,

Don’t care what we smoke.

 

We’re getting bored,

Sick and tired of the pressure

At school, at home, at college-

Whatever.

 

Night bores on, so

Sneaking down an alley,

We look for victims,

Potestin’ ‘we ain’t no ‘scallies!'

 

Meet in the dark, a figure,

on his way back,

we stumble upon him,

thud him and ‘crack’

 

the sound of a bone breaking,

in his crying face,

caught up in the moment.

No time for disgrace.

 

If one of us goes,

We sit and jeer,

‘Where’s the fun in that,

Coward!’ We cheer.

 

Lollipop and cigarette

Burns on hands,

Lying in ecstasy,

In strange lands.

 

The consequence,

Of a good night out,

Laughing and photos,

General pratting about.

 

Later we’re back,

Next day in our homes,

Parents  unbothered,

Shattered, uncombed-

 

Our hair sticks out,

Awkwardly angled,

What was last night again?

%@$^, this $%^% is tangled.

 

 

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