eaST Of tHe DUb cANaL

by ThE DiAboLIcaL LibERTieS

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1.

about

eaST Of tHe DUb cANaL...

Over the A12 and into Bow
Drifting on by the laugh of the moon
Over the park gates and into the gardens
Backing down sharply
East of the dub canal

Over the best minds of my generation
Over the Shakespeare Estate
Over Heston Services
Over a man with a problem
And sportswear mystic

Over the municipal dump
The marshland
Portacabins, litter bins
King Henry’s Adventure and
Tagged red postboxes

The sound of the suburbs
Over dead bikes
Lost bikes, stolen bikes…
Stolen bikes
Pedal’d with stolen Nikes

And dirty street light
Pooling lonely in the dark
Over the seven sisters
Over Diversions, road closures
Playground basement canyons

We’re a head full of poems
In a business mans dream
Click by click and step by step
Over a crisp packet dancing on
The great car park plains

Over loud voice lizard boys
And afternoon gains
Over some teaf
And 5-0 beef
Tryn’a put a hole in some corner shop chief

Over safe limits on a windless day
Over wifi signals colognes
Drones and phones
Expensive smelling
With strictly modern moans

Studio spaces
Were once the great blue collars roamed
Over The M1 - and its dead straight miles
Over two fat ladies and the click click click
Over the lost and beautiful over by the door

Over the new of it the old of it
The same old grind spaced
Familiar feel of it - over common sense
And the great digital solitude
Over Crow tearing and smashing

Who’s going to eat it all
Over dead floating fish
And whales diving for the dark
Over my dead body
Over my dead heart

Out across the universe
Over brooks and burst footballs
Reeboks on phonelines
Over pictures of saints
Over blue plastic bags

Trying to re colour the sea
Over rabbit boy rabbit boy
Run run run
Over treading gentle on the land
In the going down of the sun

Over an archipelago of faces
The music will run
Outside someone’s coughing
In a warm breeze
To the going down of the sun

———— ———— ————

Over thistle’d concrete meadows
To lost to be Larkin’s
Over caravan marked mud
And chicken feed
Scattered before morning

Over regurgitated dogs dinners
Betting slip heroism
Air conditioned public bar
Half foods over premises
And property

Over fake lashes
Fake pain fake tan offers
A diesel evening delivery
Over string theory cures
And medical breakthroughs

New energy initiatives
And carb load diet lifts
Over your shoes
Over the pub
Over a girl - it’s over

Under mi sleng teng
But over the bridge to
Catch yourself pinch yourself
Fool yourself wet yourself
Over the great unwashed and general rubbish

Click by click and step by step
Over tall hats and dusty boots
Over the sea and its invisible borders
Over pills and thrills
And dark rain on hills

Over southend and the river mouth
Over your shoulder
Your head and your face
Over the new wind pylons
In the waves turning slow

Over train’s going north
Over ash and maple and
Spruce and oak
Over flesh coloured Lycra
And killing a joke

Over the airwaves
It’s the new over and ball
Tattooed neck re-thinks
Acid Gentlemen trawl
Over a drink over by the window

Over by the seats in the corner
Contemplating standing rock
As the tidal waters run
Someone’s coughing on a warmed breeze
In the going down of the sun

credits

released May 22, 2017

(R. Gallagher, A.Stevenson) Produced by Alex Patchwork.
Vocals written, performed and recorded by General Rubbish.
Flute by Nyasha recorded at the Brownswood Basement.
Mixed by Will Horrocks. Mastered by Jason at Transition Studios.

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