by John Smallshaw
(London, England)

Back down in the South West
It's not the place that I know best
But that's me.
Always on danger watch
Me and a fifth of scotch.

I drink and I think I can fly
spit in the eye of authority
but they always capture me
And I am back in the cell
screaming blue murder
Bloody hell.

Do I never learn
Will my world never turn on its axis?
God knows
I've had enough practise
where is the test?
It's obviously not here or down in the South West.

When I move it's a pain but I'll move once again
settle down, wait for the rain
and the storm which will surely come.
What was once a bit of fun
blocked out my sun and hid my day
If I could find another way
I'm sure I could,
Cut out the drink and stop for good.
But I get lost in twists and turns and the churning of my guts.
If only buts were not so much a way of life
I could be such a model guy.

Until then I'll wonder why, and wonder why I cannot fly
I think I need another drink of danger watch.
The fifth is all I need
The fifth becomes my feed
and in the twisting of the deed that's done
the blocking of my sun will come

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