Bruce Grove Poem by Richard Lexus

Bruce Grove, its not pretty on a monday,
Livewire youths on street corners and happy-slapper ladies,
Bruce Grove, its not pretty at all, not even on friday,
Young sons 'poppin' pills and choked up fathers with cigarette cravings,
Bruce Grove, was where I was born, on a sunday,
Moulded the person I am now, with street writing, and graffiti paintings,
Bruce Grove, taught me to never talk to anybody.

I was born there, and now Im silent.
I sulk until i die,
Il never get violent.