I Like My Nights Dark - Dirty Dike, Jam Baxter

I have been mean

Pity, unjust, sinful, vicious, horrible

I have been mean

They were babies in the crèche trying to weld their heads together

Like street-cornered gimps trying to sell their flesh forever

They spent the summer sweating in December weather

Trying to line the pockets of their barely breathing debt collector

Treat every animal as a fungal disease

And filed every lost year as a smudge on my jeans

I walked past the beggar clutching his knees

Plump tear-ducts like a swelling pustule that bleeds

He ate his corpse and caught a virus

I chewed through the city with these reinforced incisors as I absorb detritus

Crimson gums stuffed with titanium

Flicking through my future like an uninterested alien

Cradling my cranium, wrapped around a cheap floozy

The star of every under-budget B-movie

I sat still and let this liquor eat through me

Guzzling your envious intentions in a green smoothie

I like my nights dark

I like my streets empty

Every alleyway’s my bitch, when I’m walking through the bits

Got them bricks green with envy

I like my nights dark

And I like my streets empty

Every alleyway’s my bitch, when I’m walking to my crib

Until the pigs fucking get me

Me and death on a stretch pad, petrol in the air when I rev

We met desperate, I was selling dead leopards in debt

He said, «I sell tellies, spell letters and yes»

Repel any help, levelly respect it and jet

We gelled steadily, pelling like his cloak in the wind

I’d tell you everything I know if I could only begin

Stroking his chin, stopping as I hop off the back

Knots in my back, swear I’ve got my hospital swag

Osteopath, doctors couldn’t stop what I have

Bad posture, mad lust, sad slub and I’m glad

Another record I’ll be stuck in your brain

Money and fame can suck a fucking bucket of pain

I place love and courage well above a thumb in the cake

And hate coming up as nothing but a fucking disgrace

The muffins, the fenestrated twenty fake cousins

With a getaway truck to make whatever say something

And I’ve still got balls to break, walls to paint

A stack of mister CBs for Paul to take

You stay small while I’m smacking off a dream that we share

Beat with a snare, doesn’t even seem like I care

Teeth of a bear, penis made of Jesus' hair

When I speak, I kick frees to the squeak of my chair

Beast in the lair, diamond with a chip in the dirt

Deserved every bit of prison that he did and he served

Split with his bird, at first being single was worse

But then he figured his existence in a singular word

He kept a secret like a kid on a graff' charge

Act hard, screaming with a gram and a cash card

Splat scars, fat slappers, anchor and crash cars

Adam’s apple ragged as a back of a slapped arse

I like my nights dark

I like my streets empty

Every alleyway’s my bitch, when I’m walking through the bits

Got them bricks green with envy

I like my nights dark

And I like my streets empty

Every alleyway’s my bitch, when I’m walking to my crib

Until the pigs fucking get me