Decieves The Eye

In the earliest days of my shoplifting career,

You could safely say i was filled with fear.

It was nail biting work from the very start,

But several quick sucesses soon gave me heart.

After a while i could pick or nick or steal,

Some shirts some trousers and a few lps.

No-one ever stopped me, they didn't seem to care.

It sometimes seemed to me that there was no-one there.



Then a fine summers day my mates and me,

Set off down the westend on our usual spree.

Things were as normal for an hour or so,

Then my nimble hands were a bit too slow.

Two store detectives made a fast approach,

One grabbed my jacket (you're nicked!)

The other grabbed my throat.

So they caught me at last, one said with joy:

"you'll have to do some time, my light fingered boy!"



If only i'd remembered my common sense,

They captured me red-handed with evidence.

If i go to the manager and say i'm sorry,

Maybe he'll forgive me for my youthful folly.



But what will me social worker say,

If i don't come home today?

He'll give me a clout!

What if they don't let me out?

I told him i'm on me own!

Don't they understand?

I'm from a broken home!



I'll tell them i'm the product of a broken home,

And i always went out on my own.

Was it too late to say i'd pay,

And i'll never steal again 'till the end of my days?

Because i have no friends to call as such,

Money and posessions i did not have much,

So i started to steal in order to get by.

The quickness of the hand deceives the eye.

Deceives the eye the eye the eye...




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