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I grew up in Lonesome undercover of the remnants of the old football ground And as they trampled Sunshine Way to steal our rightful London clay I was surprised to hear nobody make a sound A monument to when the old guard was overthrown Cause we deserved somewhere to call our own It was new, it was real, it was ours I kicked around with my mates out in Wimbledon where plate glass supersedes the béton brut And as the tooting border reivers bravely fought the Foxton phalanx I was wishing there was something I could do bout all these Parks and reaches everywhere; I stare in disbelief at Kinleigh Folkard Hayward’s newest fief It’s new, and it’s real, and it’s ours I'll take suburban rail, cause all we have's suburban rail, pay my respects to Edgar Kail and then look down I'll stand atop Dog Kennel Hill and let the rousing war cry spill with such a venom it could kill half of this town “Well if you’d only come out west with me, along the South Circ past the ‘23, we could show ‘em how we do things down in South” “So grab a pint along Garratt Lane, and grab your guns on Armoury Way, and we will fight them on Wandsworth Plain” “We’ll take this city back, build on new ground” It’d be new, it’d be real, it’d be ours

See how it promises beauty? See how it promises the trilling of cicadas in the dark and some brief respite from an existence divided into parts? Throw your cares away and visit Bermuda Park We all know the kind of story They call 'em colonnades or causeways to conceal the devil's mark Words for ways out, while you're trapped inside the one-way system at the entrance to Bermuda Park And though I know there's more to life I truly feel like we've been beaten Why bother paving paradise When you can pretend that it's two miles south of Nuneaton A universal obligation Another Saturday spent weaving between outlet after outlet searching desperately for meaning in the footie on 5live "You know it's not that dark, just come Bermuda Park" I know it's not that dark to visit Bermuda Park

There's not much time before they wrench you from my arms Oh, they will demonize your defects and they'll castigate your charms But Evelina there is no one I would rather love than you So come let's ride the lime green death machine and find something to do Trying oh so desperately to focus on the breeze flung through your hair But signposts to the better life that you could have are everywhere I have to ask you this or worrying will swallow me The tracks diverge at Streatham Common, darling, say you'll follow me home When I say to you "Marry or don't marry, I will regret it" you just say "get your head out of that book" When they say "honey, here's shitloads of money" I'll find myself wondering, "is that all it took" Emmanuel, how foolish of me to believe we would survive Emmanuel reared boys with coats of arms delivered you from mine Emmanuel, how foolish of me to believe love never dies Emmanuel, pardon my French, how fucking stupid am I

meu país nasceu em sessenta e seis e eu nasci trinta anos antes pequenas vitórias tornaram o trajeto suportável E nos dançamos na rua Tradescante Gritando blackwash blackwash na noite Beijei minha mulher como se fosse à última E peguei o metrô para Stockwell e na casa do meu amigo ouvimos um milagre e eu juro, a alegria do oval porque é tudo que tínhamos E minha neta na praça paternoster Fazendo tanto como se ninguém estivesse lá E minha neta, oh, ela não entende Críquete é a única coisa justa

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At the meeting point of two great rivers a new destination has emerged, industrial yet so refined A brand new island neighborhood we perched upon the River Thames; discover the contemporary at Goodluck Hope In the 'istoric 'eart of the East End yet cut off from the outside world Secluded from the rush you can avoid the morning crush of boys and girls Experiential breweries, proximity to indices and more We're heavy on the Standards and so delightfully light upon the Poors. Don't go out much anymore Don't see the people you once saw They moved me out of Ronan Point And fifty two years later I'm the only one left in this joint Old Miss Wong, she moved out first Then Elspeth, Winston, Guiggsy and my old man in a darkened hearse My daughter's out in Becontree and no one else is arsed with me except the little black boy two floors down I try to keep him out of trouble but you know what Easts become I found him in our rotten stairwell clutching some discarded gun The glare of One Canada Square cross the way They've thrown us away, They've thrown us away And our ends close in on us, closer each day, they... "Lay down that weapon, dear, how many has it been this year?" He said "it's all I've got. I'd rather cause the crossfire than get shot" I sat and I wept for him, what could I say? Good luck with marketing death and decay, you threw us away When you walk the dock and hear them scream you pay no mind it's only boys that do not count We don't go round the basin no more Just so easy to ignore

Poor outside boy from up yonder Walks up the High Road at dusk He isn't sure that she'll be there Just one of them things that he trusts Cause when everything Gets much too much for his lady well she walks along the bec(k), looking for somewhere to hide And she finds me At the mountain of fire and miracles at the meeting of mitcham and ambleside "Must we do this outside church?" I said And she said "don't you see the joke?" "He still doesn't know, does he?" "Shut. your. mouth. please. God, I hope the brimstone makes him choke" "See, I love you, but it's not enough to turn right before Riggindale, the demons will haunt me far and wide And I am burning, in the mountain of fire and miracles at the meeting of mitcham and ambleside"

man, i don't wanna sing these songs imbued with worth i'll never touch another OH on this earth if it means i won't fall into romance cliches 'cause I was never one for taking shots like Eric-maxim choupo-moting Whenever life would get this hard I'd always find my solace down in upper tooting Free of responsibility When I fucked up my life, well, my grandmother sorted what was wrong If everything's falling apart should i just quit Embarrassing to hear me chat this much bullshit cause I've broken down and I've lost me a friend and I'm wondering how I can go through it all again Morten Gamst Pedersen did not have to deal with the feelings that I feel for you He would curl it top bins and throw all his worries away to Burnley Eiđur guđjohnsen did not have to go about his daily life without looking you in the eyes He just won trophies, didn't he Well God abandoned elland road About a thousand years ago And I belong at craven cottage, shielding sins, they'll never know But lord how I miss being a kid gliding round in my school pretending that I'm steed Malbranque

I saw an angel, out on the Rye So I barged through the crowds gathered round as she sang to say hi I stammered out my name, and she said "I'm Evelina, y'alright?" I said 'with a voice like that you should be in West End shows' She said 'I've been up before and they showed me the door so I don't venture north of Queens Road' We both had no idea what the future would hold Evelina God, how you’ve changed To see you It feels so strange There's so much But baby, do they love you like I do? We gigged round the uplands, and things were so fine But I knew the way that she played meant someday she would leave me behind And so when the agent walked into the Half Moon I knew it was time And yeah, now she's famous, the Angel of SE15 Bantering with Norton and tabloid page courting the heir to the throckmorton baronetcy, but for me, it's TV and a bitterness I could not compete He jostled through the pissed up punters Said "Darling, you could be a star" Swear down that's the last time I saw her Whisked up Denmark Hill in that guy's car

How I love this town Even as it falls apart In the dead of night Leafy country lanes Welcome you to Croydon How I love this town Friends know I'll be late A collared dove still cooing In the dead of night The festival can wait Cause lavender fields call to me How I love this town Staring up in awe Oak trees limned in ochre light In the dead of night Briefly that was mine But never mine again Nearly half past nine Smitham Bottom Lane