Patrick, 17, 1997   Akira The Don, 16, just moved from living in Wales on my own,   To Redditch with my man's sister   But I dissed her, moved out   Lodging with this ex-drug addict called Sharon and Sharon's baby daughter   I couldn't afford to   Pay the 60 bar rent   So I thought that I'd better get a little bit bent   By which I mean crooked.   Criminal, sometimes sorta like a animal   Theiving, leaving greiving women and,   Matter of factly   Also for a while I worked in factories   One made boxes, one made bits of cars, one made locks   And one made food for Little Chef   The people, rude, would regularly defecate   In the sauces, I packed the stuff in boxes, 12 hour shift and they're freezing me, beer and beating some geezer.   Anyway, Patrick, Nirvana obsessive   Shoulder length bleached blonde hair and a speed habbit   He sang lead in a band called Aurora   They used to tour a bit around the Midlands   I met Patrick outside Our Price on the steps   Sat next to the rest of the greasers   We took speed that Easter   For the first time   We did the first rap outside, out back, of the Kingfisher Shopping Centre   That was that.   Catch me round his flat, smoking crap butt end roll ups   We'd stay up all week   Four am, we'd walk the streets collecting dirty nubs   Just a pair of dirty scrubs.   Patrick needed lots of love, an only child without a Dad   He had a mother, but she had   Gone a bit   Mad.   She was sad - her boyfriend burnt her house down while she was inside   And left her bleeding from her head, for dead.   He had a knife she said   She had a life she said   And Patrick nearly had a wife   And Patrick nearly took his life   I found him bleeding on the railway bridge,   Outside, five minutes from The Cross   We took him to the hospital   Spittle flecked his chin   And he sprayed    Blood over the desk when they checked him in.   I left him in,   And I went home, on my own   Fashioned me a microphone, out of headphones   I felt like that bit when Father Ted phoned Father Whatshisface   I can't remember   But I remember   One September, or was it August?   I took Pat back to my Mam's house   In North Wales.   Gales, cliffs and stony beaches, Patrick's not for speeches   But his face beseeches   Why wasn't I raised here?   Sheep and cows and deer, instead of child abuse and fear   I might have shed a tear   But within a year   I was fucking his ex - what'd you expect?   He took the piss - that was then and this is now.   We both did things that were wrong and ugly,   Stole and I lied,   And I didn't ever expect him to do what he did to me   Or me to him   Then again   And again   And I never knew you could do that with a friend or do that to a friend   Cold, controlling, plotting, begotten and rotten to the core   Can't see a soul no more   What's it all for...   Shut the door, pass the draw, pick the crumbs up off the floor   Drink the dregs, drown the voices in your head.   I'd kind of like to go to bed, but it's gotten light,   Instead I'll hang on to the night   And draw the curtain.   Who says that stuff has to worsen?   Pat's a nurse   And I am Akira The Don.