I walk the lonely streets each night,
And return to a room without much light,
A single bed, a table and chair,
A wardrobe, a mirror, the carpet threadbare.
The money I earn, it doesn’t go far,
I call into Woody’s and sit by the bar.
He pours me a gin and I tell him my tale,
Of sorrow and heartache, oh how I did fail!
At 21, my life it was great,
I married my sweetheart that I used to date,
We bought our house, detached with a garage;
New carpets, new curtains, new furniture, a mortage.
The idyllic life, the way it should be,
The cars, the computer, the plasma TV.
Everything we owned was bought on HP.
After four years of marriage, our life was a struggle,
How did it happen? Who burst our bubble?
We lost our home, now everything’s gone;
My beautiful Laura is back with her mum.
Woody shakes his head as he pours me some more.
This is not news to him,
He’s heard it before.
—LMT.