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.


Lyrics submitted by DaniC

Patrick song meanings
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