A rebel without a clue.

Oh little girl staring at me. Roundhay, street lane. Must've been something I said or did or felt? A heart so empty and nick drake brays on too long Again repeated colours of brown, beige, yellow and cream. Random art that we can't help but frown at It is nothing; it is hard to define its edges. My mind is like sludge as i took a decision Severing my tie with dirty bad rotten caffeine Nothing in this coffee and nothing in this daydream. I guess i'll need talk to everyone, maybe one will smile But if i squander my coffee shops style then where? Miles of dreary roads and shopping queues. I text to often and oftener hear silence, monotonous I consider this my death by arabica and robusta And dwell on that hate which murders and kills A high hair wine bespoken ugly brat with voice Ah, winehouse you sing woefully of trouble From your voice I feel a bubble consciously explode.

She moves like a shadow on the sand Twisting sidewise against the ripple and Darkly testing us for silicate and rust Footfalls tread in the melancholy dust The colours there represent a simple pallet But she tells me that she has more left The choice is simple and is easily balloted What more can i do to stop being alone But she will not help me solve her clue There i am a single singley chosen hue Deserting her love choice multiple tone.

I left the flat for Starbucks, on Street Lane, but I had to leave very shortly after only a solitary grande mug of their Café Estima Blend® and a brownie. Suffering from no internet I walked back to the flat through what I have decided to call 'dogshit alley' on the Roman's Estate. It is called The Romans locally, but its actually turn of the 20th century suburbia which becomes a 1950's council estate in the north end before trailing off into a mucky park known locally as The Bumps where there is more of the sporadic dog shit; I live on the otherside. I don't think calling it the Roman's does it any justice as it feels foetid and dirty, unusually for Roundhay it is more Gypsy than Ravenna. Personally I have no issues with using parks perimeters/edges as dumping grounds for dog faeces, but I hate having to hop along a path between steaming piles, from gap to gap, hoping I haven't missed one that will lead to a comical end (back in 1985 I remember falling ...