Standard (EADGBE)

You have grown up.

 Smoke-stack shadows in your eyes.

 And with annual courtroom ties,

 Cigarette burns in your clothes,

 Sugar spoons and frozen toes.

And as for love;

Oh God, you farce.

 Taught and brought up on your verse.

 Breaking rank deserves a curse.

Go home now son.

 I've forbidden what you love.

 Break your own glass with your glove.

 So you make blue the air.

 And with hands, in pockets, clenched;

 Swear to brutalise his wench,

 Burn some holes into his floor,

 Maybe petrol bomb his door.

Maybe not.

Maybe not.

'Cause that's youth today;

 They will fall on anyone in the name of having fun

 Or is it pressure from you peers?

 As the cries fall on deaf ears.

 What have I done?

 What have I done?