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The Future That I Used To Have:
From underneath the eyebrows of Cara Delevigne,
Walking up into the city,
BIllboards, faces, people in a stream.
I work with Caribbeans, Russians, Lithuanians and English;
Money knows no borders --
Foreman barking orders:
"Got a lot to do today mate!"
What's my daily rate?
Shower warmed by offshore oil,
Washing the future away,
Filling it up with days like this until it's gone forever.
Filling up the future that I used to have, with site canteens where coffee tastes of ash.
Round my way, the air just stinks of hash, skunk, booze,
On the train to read the news.
What's new?
Cara Delevigne again, standard.
Eyebrows,
Football,
Filling up the future that I used to have,
With coffee that tastes just like ash.
Only two ways up into the skyscraper,
Be a workman or be a banker.
Watch the seagulls circling updrafts on the river,
Not for too long, there's a project to deliver.
"Practical completion is just a few snags away!"
It fills the future up day by day,
Makes you forget life could be any other way.
Press my face against the glass,
Watch the seagulls pass,
I'm higher than a model's eyebrows,
But I sleep under the ground.
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