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Stevie Brown

(Daniel Roy Connelly)

Stevie Brown lives in a town that's collapsing under the weight of Tory failure. Seeing what's on offer - pills, knives, and general chaos - and given the choice between living and dying, it's better that Stevie Brown goes home to his mother.

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Spotty lads in leisurewear  
And bucket hats 
Kicking around 
Kicking cats  
Go home to your mother, Stevie Brown.  
 
The cops are out frisking teens 
One kid has a knife in his jeans 
Another has a bag of pills 
To help his granny pay the bills,  
Go home to your mother, Stevie Brown 
 
This is your place, your town’s  
Run into the ground 
It reeks of cider and mace 
And every second person  
Is completely off their face 
 
Stay here long enough 
You’ll sink into the clay  
There’s a funeral every day 
And the coffins are getting shorter  
You’ll be led to your slaughter 
Go home to your mother, Stevie Brown 
 
This is your place, your town’s  
Run into the ground 
It reeks of cider and mace 
And every second person  
Is completely off their face 
 
Tory bastards going low 
Basking in their failed blue glow 
There are houses falling down  
And the trains don’t stop  
And the buses are tipped over  
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© Daniel Roy  Connelly 2023

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