There’s a drunk queen waxin, black eyes whisperinnSays “Ten quid, quick one off the wrist”nAn there’s a priest twisted wi’ ECT,nThose madmen hind his eyes keep makin eyes at menSo I’m contemplatin leavin,nI got thoughts hung wretched side my mindnOh, back street bedrooms, cum-soaked sidewalks,nTell tale bruises base a my spine…nnAn a song spat cross the room, bled raw, bled beautifulnAn I tasted every linenTasted like Tuesday nights spent coughin up bad memoriesnFaces to the left an right an ahead a me,nWell they faded with the twisted snarl inside a menBlue from black in front a mennWoody Guthrie rollin cigarettes by train-tracks stretchin other sidenOf a fistful sleepers, bound up blinded,nEase me, yes, I’m driftin for a timenAn I heard them singin some old rebel song, means nothing to no-one anymorenJust a flick-knife whisper cut cross historynSlogan scrawled cross shit house doornnOh, and the queen done propositioned me,nHe had a song he sang to menWas a tattered love song, ode to someone chewed the soul from outta himnBut the song that snared my senses, yeah,nWasn’t his, was someone else’s, yeahnAnd I can’t recall a single line,nAn I never heard that song again