The half back-flip conception, a state hospital birth The most threadbare tall story the country's ever heard Brought home to breathe smoke in arms of her mother with a blunt kitchen knife Who just lays in a submissive position beneath the national weight and the slow arc of a fist Her heart beats like a breeze block thrown down the stairs Her blood is thicker than concrete forced to be brave she was, born into a grave And in the limp three years of board schooling she's accustomed to hearing that she could never run far A slipped disc in the spine of community, a bloody curse word made pedestrian verse Spirits in graveyards and fingers in car parks She cries in the high street just to be heard A screaming anchor for nothing in particular at the foot of the f** of it, and dragging her heels in the dirt Her heart beats like a breeze block thrown down the stairs sponsored links Her blood is thicker than concrete forced to be brave she was, born into a grave The cheek of youth flushed red and turned gray Now she lies on the pavement, she's helped to her feet, all thighs, hair, and magpie handbags Saturday's uniform for the f** me parade Brought home to keep warm in the arms of a plumber ruddy and balding Who just needs a spine to dig into, a chest for the head, and a hand for the holding Her heart beats like a breeze block thrown down the stairs Her blood is thicker than concrete forced to be brave she was, she was Her heart beats like a breeze block thrown down the stairs Her skin is thicker than concrete forced to be brave she was, she was A broken elevator anthem held between floors But if blood is thicker than concrete, all of it is not lost All is not lost All is not lost All is not lost All is not lost