Class A

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A wide eyed girl in a tunnel visioned world

Aches, pains and medicinal strains

Battered and born

Tattered and torn

In her red brick town with a trench coat frown

Soaking wet, with no means of heat

The insulation has gone

This must be defeat

She defies the men who stand brave and tall

Under the pressure is her courage, she is taking it all

A hat topping madness stares at Grace through her looking glass

As the record plays, screaming ‘this is for the working class’

Her rumbling stomach versus the borrowed hi-fi

Spitting at her sovereign, racking up some white lies

She’s got a safety pin attitude

Uniform of the nude

A broken purse with an unbroken mind

This is feud.

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About the Author: Ben Marsh

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