*If you don’t know what a ‘twagger’ is, it means a truant.

Giz a fag, Sarah, giz a fag
A single prize possession from the time when you
Could go into a corner shop
And ask for just one solitary piece of heaven.
10p please, 10p,
For we don’t care if you are a Jackie reading twelve year old
And you have lovely, sweet, bubblegum pink lungs
And we are an exploitive catalyst
In your future nicotine addiction.

We strike the solitary Swan brand match,
Huddled in a gaggle of expectant, excited girly girls
Feeling hard for a few minutes, feeling tough as shit
And saying fuck you to the rotten institution
Saying fuck you to our proletariat parents, our dog-tired teachers
Defiance as we inhale our teen rebellion
And exhale the gradual death of childish innocence.

It feels bloody good
To escape the concrete prison walls
To dice with the flaky establishment
To fuck with the rules, to stick two proverbial fingers
Up at the big, red brick, heart sick wall
To embrace the philosophy of Pink Floyd
To break the mould, to smash the expectation
To be a precise square peg in a chaotic round hole.

Giz a fag, Sarah, giz a fag
Giz a fag.

© Sarah Drury 2019