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Council house
Folk, council house coked out on a bouncy castle drowned out by feet on gravel as lips meet on a potholed street.
A channel of mammals, not old, cut face, stains on teeth, so bold, sit there and reflect on peace.
As the clock ticks and they talk, others walk from house to house in their socks, walking out with bottles of vodka.
The street is bouncing, the lights act as call, the amount of atmosphere here says it all as fall outs are called out, wall to wall, balling out.
Talking about a load of shite, you phone to home to know that you’re alright.
Cigarette ash scatters to the night as the ember glows, afters flow as the sky turns gold.
Holes are filled by the feeling of pills.
Adrenaline builds, ascend to the hills to send off as colour fills the sky on a wonderful night.
The summer of life summed up under burning bright lights.
