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Long before the days of Soccer AM
I had a girl in Devon, (in Exeter, a’hem)
So I cycled down south and it took me two days
but not long after my arrival we went our seperate ways.
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My journey took me further to the English Riviera
where exhaustion took it’s toll on a bench in the marina.
Half dead due to heatstroke and emotional from my trauma
the odour from the seaweed and fish mongers grew stronger.
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in a world of subconcious thrills
I was soothed by a beauty
with half fish tail and scales.
Her blond hair caught the sun as she tended to my bunions,
she whispered “i’m vegetarian”
to explain the wiff of onions.
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Now i’ve never been to Plainmoor since, and i’m back consuming meat
and the beauty that I thought I saw is on the telly, and she’s got feet!
I would love to solve the mystery of how she grew those legs
and then return the favour, by rubbing foot cream on her segs.
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Until that day my ritual on Saturday at eight
is squinting at the telly until the vision recreates
I watch in private splendour like that day down on the coast
with my size nines in a foot spa
and sardines on my toast.