I know this
I've played in this dirt
Powdered glass over everything
Spray paint swastikas and cocks
Coke cans bleached by sun
Sir, why here?
In the filthy, fly-tip bramble here
There's Cannock bloom and river sun
A mile just down the line

First-class tuts
More coffee, more apologies
Pale-faced kids in rubber gloves
Dressed as cops outside
I tried to find your name
You didn't make the news
You're just the man whose blues
Stopped his heart beneath our shoes