Between the lines…

 

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Ready then?

One Mississippi…two Mississippi…three Mississippi…

Love in the nineties.

Infatuated only with ourselves.

Avoiding all work…because there’s none available.

Today I’ll get up around two, from a lack of anything to do.

Civil servants, golfing fanatics, Harley Street doctor…overrated.

We all say “We don’t want to be alone”.

Finding ways to stay solo.

Follow the herd down to Greece…girls and boys.

Sun. Sun. Sun. Sun.

Dirty little monsters.

Sex on the TV, everybody’s at it.

Eighteen times a week, love.

All those dirty words, they make us look so dumb.

John’s got brewers droop…down the fun pub drinking lots of lager.

Been drinking far too much.

A malady has taken him over.

Mother looses her knickers.

Dresses incorrectly.

Slouches in the settee.

Gone divvy…too much telly.

The misery of a speeding heart.

Dirty pigeons.

Kissing with dry lips, wearing the same clothes.

So many people, hand in hand.

The way people just…fall apart.

All the high streets look the same.

Took a cab to the shopping malls.

You can’t remember ten minutes ago.

Thoughts are just…pissing away.

A cautionary tale for you.  If I jump…it’s all over.

Into the sea goes pretty England and me.

This.

Is a low.