Perfect Coffee

Now just two doors down

In the first floor flat

And the old ramshackle house

With the broken down porch and the novelty doorbell

The lights are still on

Zoe plays her music low

She's got a bottle on the go

Everything's in boxes

It's been a long night packing

Clothes in black bin bags

Blu-Tack greasing the paintwork

What the fuck is all this stuff?

There's the road sign stolen from Quick Shag Street

Shirts and skirts, posters, CD's, comedy coasters, broken TV

Birthday card that her sister made

In the distant past when she turned thirteen

Hair stuff, books, love letters she can't bin

And outside the night, and inside, the last hurrah

Limited edition Air Max 110's

Che Guevara bust, complete with his ornamental glass cigar

Not for years

The landlord never fixed the shower

And the mold kept growing up the kitchen walls

He'll do it up nice now, sure

Re-paint it, he's tripled the rent

He's gonna get it all

She's only got a few hours left to get the room all packed and clean

Zoe goes to the window

Looks to the street

Lights up a smoke

It's 4:18

The squats we used to party in

Are flats we can't afford

The dumps we did our dancing in

Have all been restored

Pints are up two quid

The staff are beautiful and bored

You think it's coming up round here?

It's falling on its sword

It don't feel like home no more

I don't speak the lingo

Since when was this a winery?

It used to be a bingo

I've walked these streets for all my life

They know me like no other

But the streets have changed

I no longer feel them shudder

Alright, alright, I get the gist

Whose city is this?

It doesn't want me no more

I've had a glimpse into the future, it stinks

London's a walled fort

It's all for the rich

If you fall short, you fall

And you know where the door is

Board up the broken, do it up, sell it back

Make it bespoke, it's all out in the open

It's fine, man, hike the price right up

And smile with your friends in the post new nightclub

My streets have been dug up, repaved

New routes for commuters, the landscape has changed

I'm lookin' for the old tags

The grafs that once meant safe territory

But it seems every hieroglyph gets whitewashed eventually

And so I'm moving on

I've got it all to play for

I'll be the invader in some other neighborhood

I'll be sipping perfect coffee

Thinkin', "This is pretty good"

While the locals grit their teeth and hum

"Another fucking one has come"

All I see is luxury tenements

Woebegone residents

Redolent resin-heads puffin' on pleasure

Everyone's reckoning, something is beckoning

There's never been anything, there's only forever

Towering tower blocks, scaffolding, rattling

The tube is a prattering ram full of passengers

Smashing its way into town, we are scavengers

Scrapping around in the sludge for our sustenance

Have a dash party life, rubbing our shoulders

Into the mold, yes, we do what we're told

We're Sisyphus, pushing his boulder

The kids are alright, but the kids will get older