Thatcher reign 3, day 2 Sheffield.




Woke up in a plastic bag,
smoked some imported illegal shag,
went to the city
searched for some pity.

Then towards the moors,
through open doors,
gettin' read by cops in transit buses,
Sue dropping an acid tab in silver and foil,
four creatures looking to dazzle and spoil.


Mouthing off in a proper pub,
the tripping punk passes the girl guide cub.

Sucking on an ice cream,
walking through a wet stream,
curse it to death,
with our last fetid breath.

~