Honest Ken
Ken standing by Astoria’s doors
Puffs cigs in his sheepskin
Eyes Dock Street in thick Foster Grants
Shouts his lad, “Clean the Capri!”
He’s watching the wrecking crew
Moving in across the street
They’re knocking down the Octopus Bridge
His lot’s covered in a thick film
Garage back to front, full
Everything’s negotiable
Offers, great deals today
Cash, shake, keys
Drive away
Looks right towards his lodge hall
Thinks of the late dues letter and sighs
Grand Master putts buy in that Maxi
No wave, no beep, just a side eye
He’ll never know he had his lad wind the clock back
Hе’ll never know it used to bе a taxi
Laughs about them calling a curse down on him
Audi, Vide, Tace, Tace!
He’s got Avengers, a Hillman Imp, Beemers, Sunbeams, Vivas
Austin’s all aggro, he don’t normally stress
Just needs to find those little bastards that keyed his Princess
No one touches my Princess
Ken’s thinking time’s short
People don’t buy bangers no more
People don’t buy coal no more
And why’d you want to put a tyre depot there for
He’s remembering the old man
Who used to beg for pennies in the doorway of the Vulcan
Never saw nothing black as that bridge
Like some kraken from the Usk sprayed it with ink