Papering Up The Cracks

(In Big Bird voice...) Hey look at this! I was cleaning out my nest and I found a book of my old poetry...

They said, they where building for the future,

but they had to pull down the neighbourhood.

They said, they were buildings for the future,

Lasting into the future, or at least they should.

Uproot old friends onto different sides,

because the council thought it was a good idea.

Never knowing the introduction of highrise,

would cause more than cracks in the wall to appear.

And Marianne & her father are papering

the walls in their brand new flat.

The very pinnacle of modern living,

more an inept architects vision of that.

Her mother would've loved it here,

In the home of tomorrow,

she thought to herself shedding a tear of sorrow.

And Marianne & her father are papering

the walls in their brand new flat

In Salford or Manchester or Leeds

or any other city in northern England.

A few years crashed on by,

her father still hadn't come to terms,

couldn't understand why

his wife had to die so young.

He tried being a rock, cried on his own.

His daughter was nearly grown,

16 years old

Marianne & her father are battling he mould.

Told they could treat it with a council grant,

And so Marianne & her father are papering

the walls and plastering the cracks

in their 21st century flat

In...any town in England

And another few years depart,

her father died of a broken heart.

Never quite managed to pick up the pieces of his life.

At least now he's in the arms of his wife.

Marianne tries not to fall into the same trap.

Yet she stays on in the same flat.

Living with her lover gives her a new sense of hope.

Fighting off bad memories with sex & dope.

And Marianne & her lover are papering

the walls and plastering the cracks

In their crumbling flat.

As we keep moving through the decades

These highrise flats get further decayed.

All discussion with MP's keeps getting delayed,

along with Giro's and strikers pay.

And Marianne & her husband are filled with joy.

Making ready a room for a nearly born baby boy.

Scraping off the mould and making the most,

They were just getting by, but to the future they'd toast.

They said they need to build for the future

and these flats had been a mistake,

but you said you'd built for the future,

don't you think this is 30 years late?!

And Marianne's world fell through again,

her nearly born baby boy, today would be nearly ten.

And she couldn't come to terms, couldn't understand why?!

Everyone she ever seemed to love dies,

Her husband left her for the bottle he never had

With a letter from the council telling her to leave her flat,

And Marianne & her shadow are plastering the cracks,

In their soon to be demolished flat....

I wrote that in about 97 I think, haven't altered any grammar it is how it is.

I remember listening to Billy Bragg and watching Our Friends In the North,

plus my nan and grandads flat in Bolton, which always had mould.