You have grown up
Smoke-stack shadows in your eyes
And with annual courtroom ties
Cigarette burns in your clothes
Sugar spoons and frozen toes
And as for love
Oh God, you farce
Taught and brought up on your verse
Breaking rank deserves a curse
Go home now son
I've forbidden what you love
Break your own gla** with your glove
So you make blue the air
And with hands, in pockets, clenched
Swear to brutalise his wench
Burn some holes into his floor
Maybe petrol bomb his door
Maybe not
Maybe not
'Cause that's youth today
They will fall on anyone in the name of having fun
Or is it pressure from you peers?
As the cries fall on deaf ears
What have I done?
What have I done?