Anthony Cooney Visit @TnGTheBand on twitter.

Stuck in the Lidl with you.

Bananas, Balaclavas, Barbecue.

It’s so hard to keep the smile off my face.

Bargains all over the place

Dressing gowns to the left of me

Pokers to the right

Here I am,stuck in the Lidl with you.

Well I started off with nothing.

Ive got baskets full of cakes, bakes and ham.

Then the cashier starts calling says “ please pack your own bags , That’s Twenty pounds forty two”

Ple. ee. ee. ee ease.

Ple ee. ee. ee. eese

Im closing can use checkout 2.

Slip inside the side of your lining.

You know you can hide.

A butter take away.

You said that you’re never seen.

Butters the thing that you steal.

Slowly made away.

So security can wait.

They’re always too late.

As we’re walking on by.

My trolley slides away.

But don’t look back in Asda.

I heard you say.

Trolley Collector.

Ticket Inspector.

Christmas Tree Lamper.

Library Book Stamper.

Keep fitter.

Baby sitter.

Picks Litter.

Speed Knitter.

Metal Detector.

Glass collector.

Charity worker.

Dog walker.

Queue crawler.

Bingo caller.

Tik Toker.

Bed blocker.

Bouncers stand, with threatening intent.

Watching twitchy men, coked up and violent.

The muffled sounds, of heart rate repetition.

Explode as doors, reveal the inhibition.

Young girls sit, on shiny soaked cold floors.

Chewing stale kebabs, showing off much more.

Than the skinny guys, are ever going to get.

French kisses behind the bins, while getting soaking wet.

First time mums, out with their single mates

Vomit in the gutter while the taxi meters wait.

High heels click like guilty knitting needles.

Toward darkened cars, spewing clouds of diesel.

Orange lights, illuminate street cleaners.

Emptying bursting bins, of pizza boxes and needles.

Hose away stains of broken hearts and pain.

Plugs and sockets, that won’t connect again.

Creeping out, from budget priced hotels.

Sun glasses hide, last nights kiss don’t tell.

Early morning workers, look at you and know.

What the cleaned up streets will never ever show.

Chorus.

Don’t get burned by dirty cigarettes.

Thirsty bats, biting at your neck.

They suck so hard, Have you finished yet.

Bites and burns from those dirty cigarettes.

A fight outside, on my quiet street.

Two drunken pieces, of over cooked meat.

A lot of pushing, a lot of pointing.

Loud angry voices, deep and threatening.

Average age of fifty plus.

30 stones of bile and puss.

The wrong wife kissed,kissed, kissed.

Punches missed, missed, missed.

Better and for worse, pissed,pissed,pissed.

Bags of blubber wrestle on the floor.

Ripped shirts and dirt, both want more.

A precise kick from the naughty wife.

Hair is pulled, nails dig in tight.

Then a compromise, hands are shaken.

The drunken couples were mistaken.

What was simply a kiss good night.

Ended up in a foolish fight.

Red heart tattoos fade to pink.

The arrows black to grey.

The names of forgotten loved ones.

Erased by the Ibizan rays.

Those favourite bands songs lyrics

That once meant so much.

Now reads like hieroglyphics.

Far away and out of touch.

Māori tattoos for muscles.

Chinese symbols for a birth.

Barbed wire for the frustrated.

Dolphins to save the earth.

Club badges on your fat calves.

Roman numerals on your neck.

The brave engrave their genitalia.

Hearts and kisses for your breasts.

A man told me that he had beaten the system.

He blamed, alcohol, drugs and his lack of wisdom.

Said he had a hole where he could bury his callous head.

Or he would pull the wool up over, his self made bed.

Never kept time or promises as he was far to clever.

Make them wait, make them hate. Better late than never.

Keep schtum. Keep mum, always act totally absurd.

Expressed himself, his actions, spoke louder than words.

Move to improve and don’t give a toss.

Be a stone alone, don’t gather, friends or moss.

Tattoo the skin and dye, your beautiful feathers.

Let the sheep creeps and birds, all flock together.

Move at night, dark isolation makes you stronger.

Be everywhere and indulge. It makes the heart pound longer.

It’s my first time over 30

A forced manoeuvre.

A rather large lorry.

Sucked me in like a hoover.

It’s my first time over 40

I was in a transition.

Race home or soil myself

As part of a bowel condition.

It’s my first time over 50

A relative was dying.

We are all in reality.

There’s no harm in trying.

It’s my first time over 70

What was I thinking.

The fear of speeding.

Was dulled by my drinking.

So it was mooted.

The low life type went suited and booted.

To impress a very old judge.

Who was never going to budge.

Who brought down his hammer.

Using well educated grammar.

The court went silent and tense.

The sentencing sentence.

Mr Life screamed and kicked.

At this guilty verdict.

His final words at the trial.

We’re horrible and vile.

If I see you c@?%S in town.

I’ll shoot you all down.

Luckily their neighbourhoods.

We’re leafy and not in his hood.

From the cradle you’re a slave.

From the pram to the grave.

Baby walker. A wheelchair talker.

The first steps.The last shave.

Nursery school to Care home fears

First kiss lips. Last kiss tears

Learn to cry. Tie a black tie.

The first suck.The last sip, cheers.

It’s a race to the end.

Egg and spoon, the lane then bends.

Winning line, no extra time.

No forks or junction just dead ends.