Barnfield Avenue Saturday afternoon, Brentford FC were playing And father wanted me to go.
I remember screaming Bawling at the top of my lungs, I was four maybe five Far too young to understand That parents fight sometimes And children always suffer.
Tudor Drive Sunday night, Pubs quickly emptying And madness stalked the streets.
I watched her casually Distracted by my own small problems, I was eighteen she probably twenty Tomorrow still a million miles away, Until it came crashing and she was gone Taken by heroin and my indifference.
It was the second time death robbed me Tore away my closest friend without a thought, Whispered in my shell like threateningly Trevor, I am watching you.
I shrugged For I was shameless then, Without fear or conscience Able to turn and walk away From blame and responsibility Much like my father did, Or so it seemed to me Standing on the terraces Surrounded by blue and white And caring for nothing but the final score.
Make the map of the past Guide the steps of the future, Help the wisdom of words Prick the conscience of kings. Let the strength of the victor Be a shield to the vanquished, Help the wealth of the merchant Feed the orphans in need.