Standing by the ticket table,
flogging run-off, stapled zines
Hold as much as I am able,
twenty pences in my jeans
Flogging run-off, stapled zines,
collated on the window sill
Twenty pences in my jeans,
cash goes to the printing bill
Collated on the window sill,
written with a young fan’s passion
Cash goes to the printing bill
and booze and fags and anti-fashion
Written with a young fan’s passion,
sold to same at sweat-soaked gigs
Booze and fags and anti-fashion,
mixing desks and lighting rigs
Sold to same at sweat-soaked gigs,
powered by punked-up singers, players
Mixing desks and lighting rigs
lapped up by the ticket payers
Powered by punked-up singers, players
I’m chatting with the table guy
Lapped up by the ticket payers,
tap what money can not buy
I’m chatting with the table guy
of favourite bands, guitars and bass
Tap what money can not buy,
he says he’ll take me round the place
Favourite bands, guitars and bass –
at seventeen, it’s all my rage
He says he’ll take me round the place
to show me all the rigs backstage
At seventeen, it’s all my rage –
this techy guy has volunteered
To show me all the rigs backstage,
I’ll learn my stuff about the gear
The techy guy has volunteered
to show me things I’ve never seen
I’ll learn my stuff about the gear,
perhaps I’ll write it in the zine
He’ll show me things I’ve never seen,
expand my learning and my fervour
Perhaps I’ll write it in the zine,
spread the news and knowledge further
Expand my learning and my fervour –
that’s what teenage me expects
To spread the news and knowledge further –
nothing else do I suspect
That’s what teenage me expects
as the backstage door falls shut
Nothing else do I suspect
of this friendly fellow, but
As the backstage door falls shut
I smell the breath and feel the hands
Of this friendly fellow, but
this closeness was not what I’d planned
I smell the breath and feel the hands
he rams his lips full on to mine
This closeness was not what I planned:
he slavers, pants, he’s crossed the line
He rams his lips full on to mine:
his pindown grip, abrasive chin
He slavers, pants, he’s crossed the line
and leaves his pawprint on my skin
His pindown grip, abrasive chin
I pull right back and push away
He leaves his pawprint on my skin
I hear him laugh at me and say
I pull right back and push away
I must have missed the nudges, winks
I hear him laugh at me and say
I surely didn’t really think
I must have missed the nudges, winks,
ignored the signs in his inviting
I surely didn’t really think
we’d come in here to see the lighting
Ignored the signs in his inviting,
what a fool that I believed
We’d come in here to see the lighting:
how could I be so naive?
What a fool that I believed
a person meant the words they’d used
It’s my fault I was so naive
I must have got my wires confused
A person meant the words they used?
Another meaning overrode
I must have got my wires confused
I’m meant to know the words are code
Another meaning overrode
I feel like such a bloody fool
I’m meant to know the words are code
I wipe my mouth and keep my cool
I still feel like a bloody fool
I try to put it from my mind
I wipe my mouth and keep my cool
and leave my self-esteem behind
I try to put it from my mind
and hold as much as I am able
I leave my self-esteem behind
standing at that ticket table
