The View From Stow Hill

How did this town get so old The air I breathe feels so heavy and cold Always caught in between The capital and the ‘other country Always caught in between The river and the valley You can still see the bullet holes You can still sense a little hope Crushed dreams and the martyrs too Silent ghostly still so confused Look up to the skies avoid the casual litter Running from the pitiful nihilism The misguided tweets the sad facebooking Cheapness surrounds me but Im not looking Look up to the skies avoid the casual litter Running from the pitiful nihilism The misguided tweets the sad facebooking Cheapness surrounds me but Im not looking