Junkie Buns

In our close, we skint our knees on biscuits
On biscuits
Quick sticks storm past and drop us uneaten Kit-Kats
And the sunken skulls under their caps groan
«Here you go, son, here’s some sweeties»
Junk, junk, junk, junk, junk
Then speed off with coughs on junkie buns
Clutching foil, clutching foil, clutching foil, clutching foil
And Ahmed, fat on crisps from his shop, beats down the door
Demands to know who stole these Kit-Kats
«Here you go, son, here’s some sweeties.»
Junk, junk, junk, junk, junk
Speed off with coughs on junkie buns