Undefeated - 5:06
Fifteen year old Francis,
We need to have a word.
I know because I remember
That you cannot stand The Verve. But Richard Ashcroft had a point,
Now I’m old enough to see:
There’s a million different people
You will be before you’re me.

I know I’m not
Everything that you had hoped and imagined that I would be,
But I did my best
And I have seen things that you don’t even know that you’ve never seen.
We need to find some common ground
In the ruins that still stand
Between you and me;
Both of us want peace.

I’m haunted by a ghost
Who hides inside my body,
Raging, rattling chains:
Fifteen year old me.
He judges my decisions, He scorns what I’ve become
And the hatred that consumes me
Starts and ends with him.

Then I came to, clutching a paper map,
Tattered and full of holes, and wandering through the ruins
Of North East London.
And I suspect if somehow I could hold
This map up to the sun, I’d somehow find new words
Written in the backstreets.
And just perhaps, if I could stitch together
My evenings and my weekends like cells within a film
They’d tell you the story
That you need to hear:

That everything that you had hoped and imagined that you would be
Might not work out;
You’ll find yourself stuck in the ruins with maps that you cannot read.
So come now let’s make peace
Between you and me.
I can’t leave you behind,
You’re always on my mind.
This is ridiculous,
I cannot live like this,
Undone, undiagnosed,
Begging forgiveness of a ghost.


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