East Coast Epitaph

You came this way on a 125 - bleached hair, shades
With your sexy graceful afternoon shivers
Then dressing again your feline hand
Soft poured from leather sleeves
Dropped motorbike stars on the carpet
Before you carried yourself away
On that bright machine

I went out, threw candyfloss from the West pier
Saccharine meteors to turn the tide red
God knows this town at the edge of the world
Could do with a little colour
Its name’s no longer pronounceable
On road signs the first letter eats the last
Like a giant Pac-man


Deal, Kent 2003 - 2005