I walk along the High
Street and see all the designer clothes in the shops
I look down and see my faded jeans and worn out trainers
THE GRASS IS ALWAYS
GREENER
I see the gleaming soft
top sports cars speed by me
I climb into my beat up, rust spotted banger
THE GRASS IS ALWAYS
GREENER
I jog through the open
fresh parkland
And return through the litter strewn alleys and streets
THE GRASS IS ALWAYS
GREENER
I drive past the fresh
painted, well appointed houses with their neat gardens
I come to my scheme with its peeling windows, overgrown verges and
paths
THE GRASS IS ALWAYS
GREENER
I arrive home and see the
smiling grubby faces of my bairns
as they play in our overgrown garden and run to meet me
THE GRASS IS NEVER GREENER
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