Paper meets Reality

 
 
You could, give  
em five bob  
Wave  
as they float  
rubber on tar  
Call it  
a taxi drive  
through the  
city, of hell  
   
Like Barbara Streisand  
in a bloodied  
rose  
   
Slap some "fuck me"  
on the paper  
as you watch  
an implosion  
from a distance  
   
I could kick that  
damn newspaper  
he said  
had "yesterday's news"  
Call myself humble  
Back myself into  
the dark corner  
Spend the five  
bob, on two    
carrier bags  
   
We could find  
a park bench  
watch em    
pass by  
Kicking dirt  
shoe-less  
While we  
hum cords  
ode to Ralph McTell  
   
Or we could  
   
just    
   
teach em to sell  
   
   
[.]  
   
   
   
Influenced thought pattern :- http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/mctell-ralph/streets-of-london-11077.html