To the sound of scrunching leaves and traffic
This ol’feller pushes t’other ol’bloke in a wheelchair
Down a dreary Salford road in late November.
Always talking, talking of nothing,
Talking of everything,: the past and what’s t’be.
What it takes and never gives back. The load.
With wheels of fire and halos running all amuck
These two desperados meandered along past
The pound shops and the bookies and the booze 24/7ers
They know all these places very well. Too well.
Dave pushes Gaz through the kebab and fag litter
Outside Hope’s old A & E, past the smokers,
Through the entrance, towards the woman,
They’ve come to see; their lovely mam.