TOWN CALLED MALICE - Paul Weller Poems


Poems » paul weller » town called malice

You'd better stop dreaming of the quiet life
'cos it's the one we'll never know
And quit running for that runaway bus
'cos those rosy days are few
And stop apologising for the things you've never done
'cos time is short and life is cruel, but it's up to us to change
This town called malice.

Rows and rows of disused milk floats stand dying in the dairy yard
And a hundred lonely housewives clutch empty milk bottles to their hearts
Hanging out their old love letters on the line to dry
It's enough to make you stop believing when tears come fast and furious
In a town called malice.

Struggle after struggle, year after year
The atmosphere's a fine blend of ice, I'm almost stone cold dead
In a town called malice.

A whole street's belief in Sunday's roast beef gets dashed against the
To either cut down on beer or the kids new gear
It's a big decision in a town called malice.

The ghost of a steam train, echoes down my track
It's at the moment bound for nowhere, just going round and round
Playground kids and creaking swings, lost laughter in the breeze
I could go on for hours and I probably will, but I'd sooner put some joy
In this town called malice.