Bobby Halfway 23, slowly waking on Sunday morning wearing a face that doesn’t belong to him in a room he doesn’t recognise lying next to a woman he’s never seen before.
Being Five When I was five I had no idea That I would be able to remember Being five Anyone over 12 was a giant Mostly friendly ones Anyone as old as my mother
Am I still a Virgin It was a fairground attraction We met that summer evening in June I was 15 you were a year older And much bolder Amongst the noise of the waltzers
Tory Fodder They sat at the table Drinking the finest claret From the vineyards of bleeding souls The deep red was drunk in abundance And stained their hands