North Town

My stress and anxiety continues.

It’s living in this crap dying town,

that I’m sure of.

I’d rather be in West Berlin writing poetry,

engaged to a Fraulein.

Soaking up European history.

Instead I’m here: Oldham.

Thorn in the side of the North.

You want a cool place,

go to Manny.

Nowhere is like Manchester.

Catch a gig or shag a bird,

the choice is yours.

All you can do in my town is drink.

One guy drank eight cans for a decade.

Where is he now?

Dead.

I’ll fill his place and fuck his bird.

Reserve the adjacent plot for me!