The Brute - A Prologue

Bobby Boxer!
Bobby the Boxer!
Bobby Brute!
Bobby the Boxer!

His brain is half
His hands are dust
His back is rot
Bobby the Boxer!

Mary married in spite sleeps on stone sofas with kids coddling nightly
Bobby can't sleep can't nothing on stone and stone-cold sofabeds
grey concrete life in lifeless cold Grays
the burn of the shame
the burden of blame
Bobby the Boxer!
Bobby the Boxer!

dreams are paper not stone to build on
money and mortgage deeds lives depend on
the wedding ring's sold
the kids won't grow old
the decor is mould
fridge is warm, oven's cold
Bobby Brute!
Brutal Bobby!
Bobby the Boxer!

Knuckles!

Dust!

Brainwires!

Rust!

Dreamscapes!

Husks!

Taste lost

for cunt!

Bobby the Boxer!
Bobby the Boxer!