Don’t dwell, cos You can’t Unring That bell easy on the bends my friend, easy on the bends And how many leaving do’s did you really need? With your WhatsApp group to rally the troops, You always did enjoy that sort of stuff There were Moretti rounds laugh out louds Heroic hugs and brilliant teeth, There was a time we’d walk it home from town, Now you get Ubers To the end of the street The Special handshakes, taps on the nose the New best mates, bonding, over a disabled toilet lid, I know it's hard saying no after three pints, And a refusal’s not the act of a friend, Even one who doesn’t know you that well And got the same Moncler jacket as you, And you had to tell them about when you nicked my jeans, and I walked home in wet trunks? And Did you fill them in what happened with Louise, And how it was going on for a year before I found out? You've never looked at me the same way since, The lad who rang in sick the day George Michael died Same one who bought perfume for that girl in the massage parlor on Oldham Road.. CK1 I never breathed a word about that Yeh, I’m doing okay thanks, It's not like you've died And No.....it's not the other side of the world But I can’t make it to the Algarve because my passport ran out in 2005 But you don't need to know that, We’d always walk it home from town N talk of lads in vans, away match plans, And of your Grange Hill top Three, That night we had the purple ohms.. Stood waiting for those lights to turn green, Only us two knew what that meant, Because... You get ...me And I always got you And I wanted to walk it home, But you was getting in an Uber, And didn’t think there was enough room, But we don’t dwell, cos You can’t Unring That bell easy on the bends my friend, easy on the bends BREAK Messaging Louise again last night, She’d asked you nicely a few times, But you wanted to know if Lucas got his birthday card, The 8-year-old boy with the voice of a 70-year-old man, She tells everyone it’s genetic, But spends far too much time with his grandad, She said.... We're only two bad decisions away from losing everything we have, It was a Paul Simon lyric she always used when trying to give advice, You said... You ...get ...me And I always got you She didn’t seem to mind, Said Lucas’ll text you when he gets the time and... 'What you gonna do when your boyfriend's moves away?' You said, It's not like he's died He left a few years ago,... You just didn't know it till last night, But you Don’t dwell, cos you can’t Unring that bell easy on the bends my friend, Go easy on the bends

Samantha takes you down, To a place by the water, Serving toast with avocado, And omelets filled with peppers, And her hair is so much darker, Than you ever could remember And her hands are now tattooed with rings across each finger, And she stares just for a second, Cos that’s all that she needs, To see if its been worth it - All this messaging for the past two and a half weeks And you want to hold her hand, But that’s probably a bit weird And that's what she once called you The time you wrote that card And left it on her desk Just before English, And you saw it in her bag So know that she kept it So you’re out here treading water In Bruce Lee style Pyjamas, Just like when you was twelve Hoping someone might notice You’ve been watching her for months Scrolling through the timeline, Through the holidays in Dubai And the wedding in The Maldives But he’s been missing from the photos You work out - about six years, So she’s focused on the salon, And her daughter's martial arts Now you’re walking by the lake, And you want to ask if she saw you, That night behind the bowling green As she wrapped herself around him, When her eyes clenched in the streetlight And you froze just like a statue, And you really wanted to save her, But she didn’t need saving, And she stares across the lake As she talks of her new Audi How it cost her fifteen grand But she wants to change the colour And her ex-boyfriend’s still in prison, For that thing he did in Thailand And she still writes him letters, Though she’s not that really bothered, She spent a summer in Ibiza, Had a thing with Brandon Block, And he still messages on her birthday, She even gets a mention in his book, Then she asks you the question, The one you always feared Where you have to make out you’ve been interesting For the past twenty-five years And somewhere in the distance, In the middle of the lake A twelve-year-old treads water And gives his head a shake The cold is starting to set in Feeling a bit of a clown, And his Bruce Lee style pyjamas Are pulling him further down So you tell her that your parking, runs out in half an hour, And for the first time, you start to think about What life will be like without her, As your engine starts you make the call and say the words aloud Ok google.... '….How do I delete an Instagram account?'

You’d meet up at India House And the two of you would walk and walk Through sun-baked streets Past the Pevril of the Peak And under the Mancunian way Past where the Nile Club used to be And Rob wouldn’t say it where his dad used to DJ On a Friday night Or where he met his mum, And you already knew it was where the riots started in ‘81, Because he'd told you a dozen times before, On lockdown forays down the princess road, To Mersey Bank and back, They all thought you were gay, ‘what if we are?’ you’d say, What’s wrong with going for breakfast or meeting for a brew? Stuff - no one else you knew would do, It was none of their business, He’d been away about Four years when you totted up all the time, But the rattle was never happening on the outside, And last time he left the Ways, said he was never going back.. And he never did Could speak three languages Spent his days reading McLaverty and James Joyce, And talked of Uylsses in such a way it sounded like the greatest story ever told, you even bought the book. You remember the snot green of Dublin Bay, But after the third attempt, You give up Couldn't be arsed with all that, Your mortgage was almost paid And contracts due to exchange on the place in Lloret de Mar, And this year when you changed the car, The dealership said have you thought of going electric? So you did For all three. Grown-up stuff The text said, phone us when you can You was already out, Dean's fiftieth, Day one, of two Or maybe three Grown-up stuff So when he said he'd been having thoughts, 'Made a plan' And you'd be better off without him, You couldn't be arsed with all that So never messaged back, You remember this street as empty When there was only you two here, Now there's Speakerphone rants, And take-away bags Swinging from handlebars, A Tattooed face does a double-take From the back of a 192, Hi-vis mobs, Are keeping watch, Through watermelon flavour plumes Easy to lose someone in a crowd And wind up stood on on yer own But you know who's dad used to DJ'd here on a Friday night, Cos you been here a dozen times before Safe man, It's what he'd always say When you met When you left In shops Or on a text And he'd be laughing if he knew, Lately, you'd been saying the same thing too, And you'd tell him, it’s ok if it comes on top Cos in the end It’ll all come out in the wash, And you’re gonna give Ulysses another go Cos now you know It's a story of someone lost trying to find their way home.

It’s four in the morning, I knew you wouldn't answer, So I’m leaving a message just to try and explain, It’s been a year since we spoke But you might want to know A few things round here might have changed, My mum said to pretend you’d died, It would have been easier, No betrayal or listening to the lies. So I read up on the five stages of greif And found i’d been stuck on stage 1 for a while. Shoulders were cried on, Hearts were poured out, There’s still mates I can’t look in the eye now, Whingeing 'bout overnight stays, Phone bills you tired to thrown away, Texting whilst I was asleep, Even told them about those things you bought from M&S, See, I thought they were a present for someone else, cos in twenty years I’d never seen you wear any in red, And when you came home that morning then went straight back to bed, It didn’t matter your battery'd died, I was just glad you were still alive Like that scene in a pantomime He was behind me all the time, Bit embarrassing when you look back I’ve still got the photo from your graduation When we couldn't get a taxi so walked form the station. The wind blew through Sheffield straight down from the Pennines And your mum said you’d be moving on to better things So i said good I knew you would They always thought I was punching above I'd see in the eyes of the wives of those holiday friends, As the blokes would be testing the water It was Los Cristianos, When I got the standing ovation for the drugs don't work. Best Karaoke all summer they said, And when I sang, ‘If you leave my life I’m better off dead’ They all sang along like they knew what it meant We got asked for photos by that couple from Burnley, The ones with the matching tattoo of their dog, And as the stars faded overhead, We lay in a volcanic bed, I washed sand from your burning skin yer said, you'd washed away all my sin. I still don't know what you meant. I saw him yesterday, No dramas this time, No waiting before work on his drive, It was in Tesco express wearing a Stone Island coat buying 2 bottles of rose wine I knew they were for you Could've been an intervention, Or some celestial prank, Whilst he grappled with that self-scan till, I must’ve jumped ….straight to stage number 5 The one where you start to move on I was writing a message, at four in the morning, To say the drugs aven’t worked for a while, Turns out you didn’t need to die after all, So for now,... I'm keeping you alive

Good turnout for Johnny today. It's every time the phone rings these days, Either someone’s pegged it or a fiftieth in Dubai. All the old faces there, filling their boots on lasagne or the potato pie, There was that comment in the queue, ‘So when’s it your funeral then?’ Playing the Charlie-big-balls wasn’t he. With his buy-to-let and his Balenciaga trainers, They see the hole in your sleeve, The greying of your teeth, And the whites of your eyes, Turned yellow, like an autumn leaf. ‘Soon - I hope. When's yours?’ Shut him right up, that did. They all know how far they can go. And know who was there when it really mattered. Like at Tottenham away in 86, When we took it to them in their own backyard 100 of them, maybe more Steaming through the station doors Fagins gang in the North London sun Young, fearless - scared of no one. You can't stay too long if there's booze about, Johnny wouldn’t have minded you sneaking out. That photo on his coffin, The Lacoste shirt with the button-down collar. And that smile, Like he always knew something you didn't, A smile a mile wide. He dropped off the radar for years. Got trapped in the cycle - heroin, jail, back on it, then jail. He needed the routine, you see. He liked those same faces coming and going, It was the only place he felt at home. Then - out of the blue he’s back, After stuff. A bed for the night, then the week, then the month, Not that he ever slept. He’d be up cutting his hair at three in the morning, Then, cutting himself. Like a micro-surgeon, Careful, calm, and precise. And you’d talk of Tottenham away in 86, When you took it to them in their own backyard 100 of them, maybe more Your little firm turned out Fagins gang in the North London sun Young, fearless - scared of no one.. You’re even scared getting the bus home now. Like a committee meeting in your head trying to work out where your stop is, 'Yeh - Levenshulme please, mate" You remember your bus-pass and the driver analyses at arm's length, Making you wait And wait Does he not know you just buried your mate? ‘Thanks' you say. And remember, no one really cares about Tottenham away. Not on the 197, they don't. Can’t stick around when there’s booze about, Not on these meds - The first two weeks are the worst, he said Keep taking them he said, And you not had a blackout since you woke up face down in the bus lane on Hyde Road, When you told everyone you’d been knocked down, But you’d stopped off on the way to your mums, Just for a couple in the afternoon. Must've been hit and run, you said. One of those electric bikes, Or maybe a moped. Now you’re on the 197 back down Stockport Road, To the room, you're calling home, With the stench of emulsion that never goes away, And your shared fridge with the combination lock, and the packet of jaffa cakes with your name scrawled across. You used to dream about the drink, Now it's the sound of birds falling from their perch. And it’s deafening, And of the one who fell, And never hit the ground. Know one ever knows why they do it, But you’ve got a good idea, So you’ll say goodbye in that time-honored way, As the ache in your heart succumbs, And drink to you pal with the mile-wide-smile, And if that moped comes, then it comes. So here’s to Tottenham away in 86, And that flash of silver in the evening sun, The splash of red on the curb, When the roar went up and the police horse slipped, Down Seven Sisters Road, You and Johnny never budged an inch. It’s just the one, Once you get off this bus.