Mother Hackney

well, I was only passin’ through
just maybe for a year or two
but the virus it crawled underneath my skin

comin’ down with a white rose
I split the north and hit the road
when I heard the ghetto callin’ out my name

with my dog and my guitar
well, we could only go so far
before the three of us were runnin’ out of brass

but I had everything to gain
with sweet f.a. to my bad name
asylum seekin’, less than sweet f.a. to lose

and now I’m back in the bosom of mother Hackney
scene of all my crimes
but mother Hackney, you’ve witnessed all the crimes against me
god knows I’ve served my time

I read the scrawls of revelation
on the walls of Central station
in New York, well I’dve sat right down and wept

but it was only in the dead heat
of a summer night-Mare Street
that I saw the good samaritan leave town

he’d seem ’em trash a listed building
where a junkie’d gotten killed in
and a killing was just what the council made

now it’s a yuppie live-work space
behind security gates
up and comin’ round the marshes when she comes

and now I’m…..

now everybody’s breakin’ down
just count the burn-outs on the Downs
man and machine in perfect disharmony

and there’s a red house over yonder
feeds the neighbours growin’ fonder
of a taste of honey, what’s the crack baby?

and well I tried to get away
but how my sweetheart made me pay
I woke up to find the handcuffs were Clapton

livin’ on the murder mile
oh lord what can you do but smile
with a psycho and his gun for company


(Copyright Mark James Pearson)