From the Perimeter

Extacts of conversations with the homeless living on the streets of London.

From the Perimeter



It's not in the things you say,

It's not in the way,

You laugh at my religion,

Or the times I pray,

For a moment of clarity,

That clears my vision... the clutter inside me,

Just seems to grip my skin,

From underneath,

It tears away the lining of every understanding,

Of every belief,

I ever fucking knew.




I can't always think straight,

I can't always find a way to relate,

I can't always describe my thoughts in an ordered state...

But I know how my heart breaks...

And I know how it hurts...

I'm no expert,

And sometimes kind of introvert...

But I can hold off night until the day wakes.




I can write until dawn,

For my minds sake...

If I have to,

Though I'd rather not,

I'd rather wake,

Warm in the duvet, in comfort next to you,

But those days are so few...

Am I paying for past sins?

Am I still a tramp rummaging through the bins,

Searching for nourishment to stave the hunger within?




I can pop some vitamins,

A poor substitute for food but better than nothin',

Better than amphetamines...

Twiddling my thumbs at three in the morning,

Bored shitless as a backstreet whore,

Fucking fat, slobbering, impotent Grandads wanting more,

Cos' Granny's dry and Viagra's opened up another door!




Slow down, better switch on BBC News 24,

Should send me to sleep with all that talk of terrorism and war...

Yeah, I know it's important but it really fucks me off,

Extremist this, ceasefire that,

Fuckin' the planet up with global tit for tat...

THIS IS THE HUMAN RACE,

WE DON'T DO PEACE LONG TERM!

After two million years we ought to know that.

We should accept that in the great scheme of things we're all dead meat...




I walk the street,

And from the perimeter,

I watch a world so mad and so fuckin' incomplete.