Pity The Plight - feat. John Cooper Clarke

Pity the fate of young fellows
Too long a bed with no sleep
With their complex romantic attachments
All look on their sorrows and weep
They don't get a moment's reflection
There's always a crowd in their eye
Pity the plight of young fellows
Regard all their worries and cry

Their Christian mothers were lazy perhaps
Leaving it up to the school
Where the moral perspective is hazy perhaps
And the climate, oppressively cool
Give me one acre of cellos
Pitched at some distant regret
Pity the fate of young fellows
And their anxious attempts to forget

So you're the badman that killed Kirby, yeah?
Yeah
And that little girl, yeah?
I didn't mean to kill her
Huh?
It was an accident

But do you know who that girl is though?
No
My fucking sister!
Chris man, just allow it
Don't tell me to fucking allow it, you don't fucking know me

These are the tears of a thug, like murky water
Crying tears as clear as mud for his father's daughter
His half-sister, he felt obliged to support her
Since her mum was poor and her dad died even poorer
Separated until she was eight years old
He knew as soon as he saw her that he adored her
So now he's baying for blood with a borer
And an automatic weapon, Smith and Weston
That'd split a fucking hole in your chest, then he's been looking to corner

The perpetrators responsible for a killing
Now he's finally got 'em where he wants 'em and blood will start spilling
The atmosphere in the air tonight is chilling
The blanket of stars above their heads in the sky feels like a ceiling
Slowly crushing down on 'em as the terror starts progressing
That leaves the youngest of the two open to his suggestion
Only 13 years old, a pubescent adolescent
About to learn a very harsh and depressing lesson

You know, fuck this, took him
Here, stab him up, do it!
Jake, bruv, just, come on
I can't, I can't do that
How the fuck do you think you got here?
How the fuck do you think I know where you live?
He offered to kill you earlier, for me!
What?

Marcel, you set me up? Fucking talk to me, bruv!
That's it, get mad
You fucking, you fucking used me, bruv!
I didn't tell you to fucking kill her
I didn't mean to, bruv

These are the tears of a wannabe thug
Crying tears as thick as blood 'cause his elders set him up
To take the fall, and now he's stuck with no way of getting out
'Cause even if there was a way, he'd still want to vent this anger out
Without a doubt, these streets are rife with corruption
Young minds get corrupt even so easily fucked
That only leads to destruction in the end
False assumptions that people have your back
Makes you believe they're your friends

Although some represent, no one can be trusted
When double O percent
'Cause some thugs will go to lengths to get revenge
Even if it means manipulating youths to carry skengs
And do the dirty work for them
The kind of work for men
That walk the darkest paths
Not impressionable young children that never had a chance
Growing up in these manors, most are doomed from the start
'Cause the minds of their peers are as ill as their hearts

Get mad
You fucking dickhead, you fucking snake!
Kill him
Fuck, do it!

Pity the fate of young fellows
Too long a bed with no sleep
With their complex romantic attachments
All look on their sorrows and weep
They don't get a moment's reflection
There's always a crowd in their eye
Pity the plight of young fellows
Regard all their worries and cry

That's it, that's it
You done good, you done good, you know?
Huh? You're a badman now, huh?
Put your head up like a badman
This is where you want to be
Look at me