Tall Poppies

Yeah
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 He was the most handsome in a class of 22
 And he knew it early on, so his confidence kept growing
 By 13, he had been with every girl deemed worth it
 To be within the village, two years either side of his birthday
 He played football, boy, could he play
 He played every single day and he still does
 A scout from Crewe Alexander came to watch him once
 And they said that they were gonna be in touch
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 He was the captain of the team without ever asking to be
 And without ever being told
 That counts for a lot, still, believe it or not
 Lo and behold, everyone fell in line
 Behind the hair on his legs and hair on his lip
 He was the-
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 He could smoke ten a day and still run faster
 Than that whippet that could lap the racetrack rabbit
 He could dabble in the snow, rubbing shoulders with the rabble
 And still never ever touch upon a habit, at
 Age 16, he made his choice to stay
 And got a job selling houses in the village
 Which by now had become such a desirable place to settle down
 It was classed not as a village, but instead as a small town
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 (On the sunny, sunny side of the borough)
 (You get two brown bins)
 Fortunately, despite the influx of newcomers including for the first time
 A genuine authentic Italian restaurant
 Run by a family of fantastic old school Neapolitans
 He was still the best at football and the most handsome man
 Taking solace in that fact, as his little world continued
 To expand, woo
 By the time he was 20
 He'd now been with all the girls deemed worth it in the village
 Five years either side of his birthday
 But it was time to settle down and no kiss had ever felt so electric
 As the first, he'd ever felt all those years ago
 Though, she'd never strayed far, hemmed in by his shadow
 The torches lining the path of her own dreams
 Had been growing dimmer by the day and so
 Faster than a dying star, she cashed in her chips and checked out
 Settled for him and subsequently threw all her own ambitions away
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 A promotion followed, a mortgage, a marriage
 A dog and children, a loft conversion
 A dead dog, and a second home on the Costa del Sol
 In the hopes of stoking the coals of two long lost souls
 Which comes first, counselling or keys in the bowl?
 Put his own mother in a home
 Got made redundant twice, never once was he on the dole
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 A light head, black spots on his vision, room spinning
 Clutching the curtain, waving from the window, they thought he was grinning
 He was grimacing, begging them to notice him, twitching, notice no one is helping him
 The grandkids waving through the rear windshield
 As the big electric gate draws a line in between them
 A fine, fine line between benign and malignant
 So get yourself checked, book yourself an appointment
 So get yourself checked, book yourself an appointment
 So get yourself checked, book yourself an appointment
 So get yourself checked, book yourself
 The whole village and most of the town came out to mourn his end
 A full house, he would've been so proud
 Knowing that no one said a bad word about him aloud
 He wasn't perfect, but he was my friend
 He wasn't perfect, but he was one of us
 He was one of us
 A plaque bears his full name on a bench by the water's edge
 The dates he came and went
 And a quote about life and death from a song he'd never heard
 'Cause he wasn't too fond of long songs with lots of words
 If I were him, I'd have never left the village either
 But I did, and I know full well
 That there are more handsome men
 And better footballers out there in Greater Manchester
 They would've cut him down to size if they could've
 But what good would that do?
 He bloomed and he grew and grew, and still, he was doomed
 Same as me, same as you
 Same as everyone I ever knew
 You, sometimes still, I think about you
 Out there, somewhere, floating in the ether
 Born dyed in the wool, never knowing of a belly half full
 So many of us are just crabs in a barrel
 With no feasible means to escape the inevitable cull
 There are those that grow thick skins quick for the sake of their sins
 And the savvy folk that just keep their mouths shut and take it all on the chin
 We collide with each other, we submit, we bare our teeth
 Catch fish using giant metal ships and scream with laughter
 At 4 a.m staggering home down moonlit country lanes
 We cry because children are dying across the sea
 And there is nothing we can do about it
 Whilst we benefit from the bombs dropped which we had no part in building
 We are sorry, truly we are sorry, we are just trying to get by too