The chemical works
of Gragemouth
burning red
in the darkness of night
for it's punch ups
and broken teeth
and a late night bus
to the outer schemes
keep your eyes down
and never stare
for feral youths
are prowling tonight
the swaggerin lads
with cutting banter
the dead eyes of the junkies
the empty encounters
of the sauna girls
and always
my escape
the motorways
of the Central Belt
my dream
to be a cowboy
in the Lanarkshire hills
for there are many Scotlands