When we were sixteen, we both got jobs
Stacking shelves, and breaking hearts,
You down the road and I at Waitrose,
A street, and twenty pence apart,
We met at school when we were six years old,
Crooked fringes, and bleeding knees,
To bring down the unjust regime,
I had you stamping on non-exploding batteries,
You a blonde, and I brunette,
You liked sport, and lest I forget,
I did not but in the end, to my regret,
I got you puffing on cigarettes,
You were Butlins and we were Lakes
We were David Frost and The BBC,
We were Swap Shop and Songs of Praise,
You were Tiswas and Royal Variety,
On Saturday evenings we'd part for tea,
To return, after play, to our families,
Same village but worlds apart,
Separated by a few streets, and ITV,
You were brother and I had no other,
Who shared the highs and lows with me,
On walks upon walks, we'd explore our hearts
And discuss the merits of a double D,
We discovered music, lost heart, found faith,
Found love, lost love, found voice and sang,
Grew hair, shot up, skinned up and signed up,
But this, the gateway, where the end began,
When we were sixteen, we both got jobs
Stacking shelves, and breaking hearts,
You down the road and I at Waitrose,
A street, and twenty pence apart,
It was here that the gulf started to grow,
With new friends and a taste of popularity,
To my shame I embraced them and the gulf became more,
Than the difference in an hourly rate of 20p
(For Adrian Capell)
No comments:
Post a Comment