Standard (EADGBE)

You have grown up.

Smoke-stack shadows in your eyes.

And with annual courtroom ties,

Cigarette burns in your clothes,

Sugar spoons and frozen toes.

And as for love;

Oh God, you farce.

Taught and brought up on your verse.

Breaking rank deserves a curse.

Go home now son.

I've forbidden what you love.

Break your own glass with your glove.

So you make blue the air.

And with hands, in pockets, clenched;

Swear to brutalise his wench,

Burn some holes into his floor,

Maybe petrol bomb his door.

Maybe not.

Maybe not.

'Cause that's youth today;

They will fall on anyone in the name of having fun

Or is it pressure from you peers?

As the cries fall on deaf ears.

What have I done?

What have I done?