Perfect Coffee

now just two doors down

in the first floor flat

and the old ramshackle house

with the broken down porch and the novelty doorbell

the lights are still on

zoe plays her music low, she's got a bottle on the go

everything's in boxes

it's been a long night packing

clothes in black bin bags, blu-tack greasing the paintwork

what the f**k is all this stuff?

there's the road sign stolen from quick shag street

shirts, and skirts, posters, cds, comedy coasters, broken tv

birthday card that her sister made

in the distant past when she turned 13

hair stuff, books, love letters she can't bin

and outside, the night, and inside, the last hurrah

limited edition air max 1 tens

che guevara bust, complete with his ornamental glass cigar

naff for years, the landlord never fixed the shower

and the mold kept growing up the kitchen walls

he'll do it up nice now, sure

repaint it, he's tripled the rent

he's gonna get it, and all

she's only got a few hours left to get the room all packed and clean

zoe goes to the window

looks to the street

lights up a smoke

it's 04:18

the squats we used to party in

our flats we can't afford

the dumps we did our dancing in

have all been restored

pints all up to quit

the staff are beautiful and bored

you think it's coming up 'round here

it's falling on its sword

it don't feel like home no more

i don't speak the lingo

since when was this a winery

it used to be the bingo

i've walked these streets for all my life

they know me like no other

but the streets have changed

i no longer feel them shudder

alright, alright, i get the gist

who's city is this? it doesn't want me no more

in fact, i glimpse into the future, it stinks

london's walled fort, it's all for the rich

if you fall short, you fall, and you know where the door is

board up the broken, do it up, sell it back

make it bespoke, it's all out in the open

it's fine, man, hike the price right up

and smile with your friends in the posh new nightclubs

my streets have been dug up, repaved

new routes for commuters, the landscape has changed

i'm lookin' for the old tags, the graffs that once meant safe territory

but it seems every habitat gets whitewashed eventually

and so i'm moving on

i've got it all to play for

i'll be the invader in some other neighbourhood

i'll be sipping perfect coffee

thinkin', "this is pretty good,"

while the locals grit their teeth and hum

"another f**king one has come."

all i see is luxury tenements, woebegone residents

redolent resin-heads puffing on pleasure

everyone's reckoning something is beckoning

there's never been anything, there's only forever

towering tower blocks, scaffolding rattling

the tube is prattering ram full of passengers

smashing its way into town, we are scavengers

scrapping around in the sludge for our sustenance

have a dash party life, rubbing our shoulders

into the mould, yes, we do what we're told

we're sisyphus pushing his boulder

the kids are alright, but the kids will get older