God, looked down upon Aldgate.
Dorniers, Heinkels and Messerschmitts saw bombs drop endlessly upon Aldgate.
Windows broken, steamed and cloudy,
dark satanic curtains hanging dowdy.
Split paintwork just left to rot,
a kitchen table with a cracked formica top.
The evil casting shadow of an ageing beam,
with clouds of smoke rising in between,
some guy looking cold in an Irons scarf,
this must be; the other half.
It's a shame that Charlie isn't here,
the lesson to learn is pretty clear.
All shapes and sizes, all points of view,
a long distance lorry driver looking for someone new.
Just to make the night complete;
the stripper didn't show her face,
let alone anything else,
this really was bad taste.
Half empty glasses quickly whisked away,
by the staggering tramp who can't afford to pay.
And I ask myself: "am I a piece of shit?"
If my Mother saw me now, would she feel sick?
I can't really apologize because these things I do,
I'm just spending an evening with Aldgate's chosen few.
Capability Red aprox 1982
