Battersea Park.
Backwards and forwards across London I go
I’ll be honest, I just want to hang low
You know when your problems just seem to mount
Like looking at your bank, wishing you couldn’t count
//
A walk down Lavender Hill, to Battersea Park
Chopping and changing, like Noahs Ark
We pull up a spot and the blanket is out
Pens and paper follow, no need for a snout
//
The game starts fun, with laughter and that
But eventually turns sour and into a spat
Since December last year shes been keeping it in
I retrace, think back then my head starts to spin
//
So 7 months bottled up, deep inside
This is the girl, thats meant to be my bride
Why would she wait so long to tell me
It makes me think will we ever be free
//
I didn’t know what to say, just another dark cloud
Am I naive, trying to put things straight, Am I being proud
It’s not just this, it’s a strong accumulation
My head starts to throb, the weight of a nation.
//
Alan George Mehmet
//
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