Neighbourhood Watch from D/U by Dragged Up

He was looking for a fight
But didn’t want to leave his chair.
I heard him from downstairs

Screaming through the phone to the talking clock
Or Vivaldi played on Council synths
Before embarking on an argument
With a piece of lint
On the skirting board.

Oh, it isn’t red
No, it isn’t red

Sunday nights he’d come home drunk
With a fractured knee and an epiphany.
I pretended not to see

The notes he plastered one by one,
End-of-days conspiracies scrawled
Upon flaking walls
Down darkened halls.

Oh, it isn’t red
No, it isn’t red

I borrowed a hammer once
And I swear I saw his bin-bag breathing

I pointed, dumb and disbelieving
As he showed me to the door.
I don’t visit anymore.

Well, that hammer I keep close beside my bed
And I tell myself it isn’t stained with red.

Oh, it isn’t red
No, it isn’t red



LJ

• Rock
• Spoken Word
• art rock
• garage psych
• proto-grunge
• proto-punk
• Glasgow