“The Sound of Sirens”

An ode to my hometown
Hello, Peckham, my old friend
I’ve come home to you again
Past the pound shop, I come creeping
I turn away from people, thieving
And the vision of the high street stays the same
and once again
I hear the sound, of sirens

This restless town it is my home
Crowded streets and chicken bones
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turn my attention to a struggling tramp
Whose eyes are stabbed by the flash of a cop car light
which splits up a fight,
But Jesus, do we really need the sirens

And on Rye Lane what I saw was
One thousand people, maybe more
People re-acting without thinking
People off their heads and drinking
People shouting on phones,
telling stories, they should not share
as no one cares
It’s bad enough hearing the sirens

“Fools,” say I, “Watch how you go,”
As like a paper bag you blow
Shadows loiter on the streets you walk through,
Watch out, the perfumes knock off, and the phones are too
But my words like far of gunshots fell
And echoed in the vastness that is Primark

Here, people either bow and pray
Or else they drink their woes away
And all the preachers shout out their warnings
While the drug dealers are swarming
But on the plus side, we’ve got a Banksy
Painted on Subways wall
And a new food hall

But still, we’ve also got the sirens.