Band Practice about to start.
Someone out there heard o' Raphael Sadiq?
I had a meeting with my college principle
today - told him the plight o' m'people:
the massed out cast of the inner city.
Four schools started it, being
N. Highs (plaural, but we don't count them as the two)
Arnold Hill, Weldon and Frank Cealy.
I didn't go to any of them.
I'm in the second generation, with the Dons in the year above
but me and Katie, we're top dogs historically dispite;
the older guys didn't get involved before loads of us.
I told mister Slattery that those in the middle year, (my year) of the gang
we're socially sat on by the peeps older
so we're boring and depressed
they're destructive and best,
funniest.
We got the looks.
Poor things. Maybe I'm
looking at it from the wrong direction.
No! They fucked us over somehow;
thought they should get the eyes
and the laughs
but we got hooked up
hooked, politely on the whole,
tore ourselves up with relationships
for the backdrop (oh! to be talked about)
while they baptised.
He said at college every year has it's character
and the politics classes are an acceptable measure.
So here I am, silent sliming epicentre
of Sub-group C
and the year below are looking at me:
free to better and hold they're own
because a legend has shown them
that it's easy to be better, better than me.