As a pile of us pack into the back of Balfey's box of a chat Renault Clio
Robbie shouts from the front "Here boys, any tunes you want?"
Now, Robbie just saying this relays the engraved pace so regular to our weekly trips to Tesco
Maybe I should step [?] go back the years, before the animated crunch of clutching gears alleviated our fears and [?]
We were spotty, rotten teens
Grew up on the schemes, we were pregnant teens
Securе state means [?] transcend to stagе dreams as they get impeded by circumstance
And if you get the chance to survive office nine to five you're grasping for your life
And the aspirations are balling and dawning
[?] athletic succes suppressed by a tradition that's said to know best
But you know this thing already
What you may not know is where my humble roots begin
In [?], ill-cut jeans and an emo fringe that went below me chin
When me and the boys started a band for the craic, that fun was taxed by bus fares to band practice
It was the seventeen and eight that imposed the toll to pay for our friendship
But now back to the present
Where we reside in a one point two litre [?] purple bubble of french manufactured heaven, hell-bent for Tesco
"Come on lads, any requests?" Robbie relays with a harshness of breath
That reflects how much he detests the [?]
But that's when he puts on Omar Souleyman's Leh Jani and pumps it as loud as the Roadmaster USA car speakers allow it to play
As the car rolls down the pothole north Dublin street and the twelve year old engine rattles at our feet, we nod our heads to the beat
And greet each passerby with an abusive series of beeps
Me eye lids begin to feel heavy under the steady bumps and by the time I open me eyes, we're already in the brightly lit aisles of Tesco
Neatly tucked outside, out the corner of me eye I spy the sixteen year old boys by the cheap wine and the gargle oils
poised by nights and [?] violence [?] brought on by the Lincoln and sexual frustration and vodka drinking and it brings me to thinking
My little rebellion inside hasn't changed
Never faded in stages I still suffer the rages of a teen
Still have those dreams of getting out with their skin
But I was brought up to believing that genius was a take it or leave it
That art was a part to do in pastime that just doesn't mean shit
And if [?] never comes then there's no need for to grieve it
From the first time I saw Michael Owen ruining a goalie's clean sheets,
Or read "When I Have Fears" by John Keats
Or put Disorder by Joy Division on fifty times on repeat
I knew there was a reason,
A great upheaval,
Redeeming a feeling so primeval to my very being
That I burned to do something great.
And that a moment of art
A moment parked in a car that sparks a poem or even just a flow
Is worth more than half the world will ever know
And sure I have fears that I'm wasting me time
But as I gaze at the brazen youth as they stand in the queue in a single file
Sound emerges from the [?] of it
Asking me to go splits on a twelve pack of crisps
And in a flash
it all seems worthwhile
Robbie shouts from the front "Here boys, any tunes you want?"
Now, Robbie just saying this relays the engraved pace so regular to our weekly trips to Tesco
Maybe I should step [?] go back the years, before the animated crunch of clutching gears alleviated our fears and [?]
We were spotty, rotten teens
Grew up on the schemes, we were pregnant teens
Securе state means [?] transcend to stagе dreams as they get impeded by circumstance
And if you get the chance to survive office nine to five you're grasping for your life
And the aspirations are balling and dawning
[?] athletic succes suppressed by a tradition that's said to know best
But you know this thing already
What you may not know is where my humble roots begin
In [?], ill-cut jeans and an emo fringe that went below me chin
When me and the boys started a band for the craic, that fun was taxed by bus fares to band practice
It was the seventeen and eight that imposed the toll to pay for our friendship
But now back to the present
Where we reside in a one point two litre [?] purple bubble of french manufactured heaven, hell-bent for Tesco
"Come on lads, any requests?" Robbie relays with a harshness of breath
That reflects how much he detests the [?]
But that's when he puts on Omar Souleyman's Leh Jani and pumps it as loud as the Roadmaster USA car speakers allow it to play
As the car rolls down the pothole north Dublin street and the twelve year old engine rattles at our feet, we nod our heads to the beat
And greet each passerby with an abusive series of beeps
Me eye lids begin to feel heavy under the steady bumps and by the time I open me eyes, we're already in the brightly lit aisles of Tesco
Neatly tucked outside, out the corner of me eye I spy the sixteen year old boys by the cheap wine and the gargle oils
poised by nights and [?] violence [?] brought on by the Lincoln and sexual frustration and vodka drinking and it brings me to thinking
My little rebellion inside hasn't changed
Never faded in stages I still suffer the rages of a teen
Still have those dreams of getting out with their skin
But I was brought up to believing that genius was a take it or leave it
That art was a part to do in pastime that just doesn't mean shit
And if [?] never comes then there's no need for to grieve it
From the first time I saw Michael Owen ruining a goalie's clean sheets,
Or read "When I Have Fears" by John Keats
Or put Disorder by Joy Division on fifty times on repeat
I knew there was a reason,
A great upheaval,
Redeeming a feeling so primeval to my very being
That I burned to do something great.
And that a moment of art
A moment parked in a car that sparks a poem or even just a flow
Is worth more than half the world will ever know
And sure I have fears that I'm wasting me time
But as I gaze at the brazen youth as they stand in the queue in a single file
Sound emerges from the [?] of it
Asking me to go splits on a twelve pack of crisps
And in a flash
it all seems worthwhile
( Paul Curran )
www.ChordsAZ.com