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Kate Rancid
The summer sun is shining down,
Upon our pastey skin,
The flowers raise their pretty heads
And give a little grin.
The eagles in the sky above
Do soar and swoop with glee,
And everyone is smiling,
Except me.
The sky is of the bluest blue,
The grass is green as green.
The painter lifts his brush to paint
The cheerful summer scene.
The little children laugh and run,
Their minds and spirits free.
And everyone is happy,
Except me.
I sit around in clothes of black,
My curtains shut so tight,
And play my Mission records 'til
The sun's gone and it's night.
My palid face relies on cold,
My complexion's pale and wan,
And I can't go out for several weeks
In case I get a tan.
I spray patchouli round my flat,
And lacquer on my hair,
And put on 50 bangles,
With the black clothes that I wear.
Sometimes I wear white shirts,
But I'm really not that fussy,
As long as it looks good,
On Wayne Hussy.
Sometimes you might see me
As I walk along the street,
Unable to resist the human
In me who must eat,
You'll laugh from street-side cafes
With your mocha which is frothy,
As I go by clad in blackness,
Looking gothy.
Yes the summer is unfolding,
And the people laugh and play,
And make plans for little picnics,
And holidays away,
But I think I'll take my pen now,
And make poems of my wrath,
Cos summer is a CUNT,
When you're a goth.
