SILVERTOWN

I’m sat

drinking coffee and shouting at the radio.

What is this god-forsaken world coming to?

I don’t like the wars and I don’t like the leaders.

I don’t like the propaganda they feed us.

So I turn on the TV.

What are they telling us?

The guy next door appears to be famous.

He’s slightly better looking

than the guy next to him and he’s got a

revolutionary way of shopping.

So I lock up the flat.

Go to the corner shop.

Buy me a bottle.

Believe me I like a drop.

Sit on the corner and talk to the African.

They moved ‘em all in now they’re moving them out again.

My boyfriend’s got a new phone.

It doesn’t make sense.

The kisses he sends me all cost ten pence.

And we’ll all watch Eastenders

‘cos they seem to know

that life is a dull phase

that everyone goes through.

Pick out an album.

Pick out a tune.

If it’s right for you honey it’s

right for me too.

And we’ll all sit together on a sofa of love

and we will talk shit ‘till the sun comes up.

We paid four ninety-nine from Furniture Factory.

I wanted the chair but they never got back to me.

And I can’t help but wonder who’d be sitting there now

if anyone gave a shit in old Silvertown.

It glistens. It tarnishes too.

You love me and I love you.