Sundown in Dormo, out come them all,
Looking and waiting, watching for fall-
Out. Strong is their gait, demeanour stands tall,
All is for one, but not one is for all.
They see as you watch, their eyes always look,
They wait just in case you work out they're a crook -
Looking, cooking up plans behind sneers,
You never do know when the walls will have ears,
As well as the eyes while they spy you indoors,
Pinpricks of pupils see all he abhors
In the dusk and the mist of a bad part of town,
He's renowned for his fists and his meanness of frown.
You always remember, must never forget
That he's just round the corner, he will see you yet
As you wander to shops, purse is clamped in your hand -
Don't look to his eyes; you can't take a stand.
Wind wisps around and you wait for the fight,
'Cause you realise fast when his eyes catch the light
From the street lamp above, and reflection in cars,
You see his face clearly, but never the scars
Of the violence of youth, when the gangs would all meet,
Just down the way at the end of the street
That you always swore that you'd never call home,
With your garden of junk and your novelty phone.
He'll sit and he'll wait in the shop doorway light,
Along with his friends 'til the stillness of night.
Getting up close, you just want to get by,
He opens his mouth, has a glint in his eye,
Fingers tighten round purse when he starts to cry
With greed and contempt, "Penny for the Guy!"