We’re standing in the rain,
Grass submersing our brains,
Waiting for the carriage,
Along to fucking marriage

Marriage to a life,
Of which I’m misfortunes wife,
And you’re the happy husband,
In miserable fucking England.

I hate your Scottish face,
You’re a bloody disgrace,
The way you handled me,
Was like our fucking child- our money.

I try to hold your hand,
Like we used to when we were whammed,
But the grass is in your clutch,
All you care for is the fucking promised land from the Dutch.

We’ll never be the same they say,
We’re heading our separate ways,
They’re right y’know?
I’d fucking leave you if you hadn’t of said ‘no’

So now I’m standing here,
With your breath in my ear,
The grass in our hearts
And our fucking dreams beginning to start.



The door slams.
The police call.
I scream and cry!
Do you not love me at all?

The fist rams.
My body will fall.
I shudder and cry.
Why do you treat me like a football?

I cry for your love.
You neglect my cry.
I watch your hand from above.

You hit. I fall.
I cry. You scream.
I weep. You shout.
You stomp. I sleep.

Love me mother.
Love me child.
Love me brother.
My heart is wild.

I search and search.
Until nothing is left.
I search and search.
But you have already left.