| Music Mercia | |
| Badger Promotions Badger Poetry | LIGHTERS! He said "I have seen my end, and I know it isn't pretty.... A small unglorious struggle, in an alley of this city, Kerb-jawed for my troubles, last lost fiver of the kitty... Left so life can leak away, with a lock knife in my back, But I know when I reach Heaven, I'll get all my lighters back." "Saint Peter he will meet me there, with Saint Aleister Crowley, And they'll whisper 'bout my good deeds, and praise my bad deeds loudly, Al will pull the switchblade free, and flash a saintly grin, Before shrugging and saying it's more than his jobs worth for him to let me in... There's a war on in Heaven about my arrival, even the old bloke could get the sack, So if I'll just let it lie, just forget that I've died, I can have all my lighters back. "Lonesome I'll wander, away over yonder, to the palace of Purgatory, But there's still no respite, because plead as I might, they would find no room for me... You know I didn't fit in, there was no kind of sin, that I'd done like suicide, And they recheck their lists, over nooses and wrists, but access will be denied, They'll say they are sorry, they could do with the company, but their place was not for fighters, As I wander away, they all shout out "Hey! We just found this big bag of your lighters!" And now to the rub, locked out of those clubs, I'll step down the stairway to Hell, As the heat and the steam starts to carry the screams, I know I have something to sell, Like two times before I'll knock at the door, and I'll beg for a bed for the night, But Old Nick has been warned, "We don't want you!" He storms, "But I'll swap you your life for a light!" |