Ford contour
Heading out to about 20 bars, like a crust punk band going on tour
Jacks left to ruin and rack, smells like a sewer
Doesn’t stop me doing up the racks, sue me
Rich now but wore rags
Covered holes with patches, wore greys once-blacks
Some shit I bargained for, some I stole
Some I got gifted, bits I blagged
Why you asking to check my bag? Pushing him back
Fucking security tags
I wish the early 2000s would come back, easier being a scumbag
When I look back
It was always sunny but I remember being cold all the time.
Alchemisland 
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