Pity the Plight

[Intro : John Cooper Clarke] Pity the fate of young fellows Too long in bed with no sleep With their complex romantic attachments Oh, 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 cruel Give me one acre of cellos Pitched at some distant regret Pity the fate of young fellows And their anxious attempts to forget [Sketch] Chris: So you're the badman that killed Kirby yeah? Jake: Yeah Chris: And that little girl yeah? Jake: I didn't mean to kill her, it was an accident Chris: Do you know who that girl was though? Jake: -pause- Nah Chris: My fucking sister! Marcel: Chris man, just allow it Chris: Don't tell me to fucking allow it, you don't fucking know me [Verse 1: Plan B] 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 bora And an automatic weapon; Smith And Wesson That'd split a fucking hole in your chest length He's been looking to corner the perpetrators responsible for a killing Now that he's finally got them where he wants them 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 them as the terror starts progressing That leaves the youngest of the two open to his suggestion Only thirteen years old; pubescent adolescent About to learn a very harsh and depressing lesson [Sketch] Chris: Here, stab him up. Do it! Marcel: Jake bruv, just, come on.. Jake: I can't, I can't do that Chris: 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! Jake: What!? Marcel, you set me up?! Fucking talk to me bruv! Chris: That's it, get mad! Jake: You fucking-, you fucking used me bruv! Marcel: I didn't tell you to fucking kill her [Verse 2: Plan B] These are the tears of a wanna-be 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 corrupted and so easily fucked with 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 One 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 are with the darkest pasts 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 [Sketch] Chris: Get mad Jake: You fucking dickhead, you fucking skank! Chris: Do it! [Outro : John Cooper Clarke] Pity the fates of young fellows Too long in bed with no sleep With their complex romantic attachments Oh, 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 [Sketch] Chris: That's it, that's it. You done good. You done good, you know? You're a badman now. Put your head up like a badman! This is where you want to be! Look at me