The Masterplan

The can that still defines the man Proffered skyward like some masterplan. A trophy of those glory days When youth was king And dreams obeyed. This same old street Those same old feet That echoed to the anthems beat And led you to the Promised Land Where drugs and money went hand in hand Still search from bench to pub and back In worn out shoes and anorak Denying age its rightful stage Through vengeful rants and drunken rage. Through incoherent lullabies And jumbled words and wailing cries. Though real as truth spun on a wheel Eternal as the now is real- As real as life brings us to heel when death is all there’s left to feel. The can that still defines the man Still proffered like some masterplan. A trophy of those glory days When youth and dreams were soon betrayed.