Patrick, 17, 1997 Akira The Don, 16, just moved from living in Wales on my own, To Redditch with my man's sister But I dissed her, moved out Lodging with this ex-drug addict called Sharon and Sharon's baby daughter I couldn't afford to Pay the 60 bar rent So I thought that I'd better get a little bit bent By which I mean crooked. Criminal, sometimes sorta like a animal Theiving, leaving greiving women and, Matter of factly Also for a while I worked in factories One made boxes, one made bits of cars, one made locks And one made food for Little Chef The people, rude, would regularly defecate In the sauces, I packed the stuff in boxes, 12 hour shift and they're freezing me, beer and beating some geezer. Anyway, Patrick, Nirvana obsessive Shoulder length bleached blonde hair and a speed habbit He sang lead in a band called Aurora They used to tour a bit around the Midlands I met Patrick outside Our Price on the steps Sat next to the rest of the greasers We took speed that Easter For the first time We did the first rap outside, out back, of the Kingfisher Shopping Centre That was that. Catch me round his flat, smoking crap butt end roll ups We'd stay up all week Four am, we'd walk the streets collecting dirty nubs Just a pair of dirty scrubs. Patrick needed lots of love, an only child without a Dad He had a mother, but she had Gone a bit Mad. She was sad - her boyfriend burnt her house down while she was inside And left her bleeding from her head, for dead. He had a knife she said She had a life she said And Patrick nearly had a wife And Patrick nearly took his life I found him bleeding on the railway bridge, Outside, five minutes from The Cross We took him to the hospital Spittle flecked his chin And he sprayed Blood over the desk when they checked him in. I left him in, And I went home, on my own Fashioned me a microphone, out of headphones I felt like that bit when Father Ted phoned Father Whatshisface I can't remember But I remember One September, or was it August? I took Pat back to my Mam's house In North Wales. Gales, cliffs and stony beaches, Patrick's not for speeches But his face beseeches Why wasn't I raised here? Sheep and cows and deer, instead of child abuse and fear I might have shed a tear But within a year I was fucking his ex - what'd you expect? He took the piss - that was then and this is now. We both did things that were wrong and ugly, Stole and I lied, And I didn't ever expect him to do what he did to me Or me to him Then again And again And I never knew you could do that with a friend or do that to a friend Cold, controlling, plotting, begotten and rotten to the core Can't see a soul no more What's it all for... Shut the door, pass the draw, pick the crumbs up off the floor Drink the dregs, drown the voices in your head. I'd kind of like to go to bed, but it's gotten light, Instead I'll hang on to the night And draw the curtain. Who says that stuff has to worsen? Pat's a nurse And I am Akira The Don.