A few questions for your iron laddies as they face their daily oblivion
Can you really dictate this vernacular?
Suggesting you understand where art is here.
Here in this salty, arcane Atlantic outpost
Where leisure is cockles crabs and currents
Is this culture pert or does it have swagger?
To understand this place you can’t be a bystander
Because when the tide comes in and your things are not to be seen
These people will still be heard here
They will gather
As they’ve done
And as they will
Playing amongst the swimmers that never dream
Can your romance fit this reality?
They’ve made this their place
To make life bearable
And a whole lot less meek
So when they see need to redecorate and renew
Don’t cry foul
As you’ll look a fool