I’m an old school bloke,
or I try to be, anyway.
Depends who you ask,
some would say
I’m just a pain.
I can be a cunt.
I know that.
No point wrapping it up
like it’s something it’s not.
I’ve got a mouth on me,
a stare that says enough,
and if it kicks off,
I don’t tend to duck.
I’ll stand toe to toe,
even when I probably shouldn’t,
stubborn as hell,
still there
when most people wouldn’t.
But I’ll hold the door,
without making a show.
Walk on the outside,
keep an eye on the road.
Your secrets are safe.
I mean that bit clear.
I don’t sell people out,
not for laughs,
not for beer.
Loyalty’s easy,
or it should be to me.
You stand by your own
when there’s nothing to see.
I love too hard,
that’s the honest truth.
All fire, no dimmer,
no tidy little proof.
I can be too much,
too sharp, too fast,
like I was made for trouble
but built to last.
Protective? Yeah.
Probably past normal.
I’ll admit that.
But if I care about you,
I’ve already got your back.
I’m blunt with the truth,
and soft doesn’t suit me.
I’d rather say it straight
than smile and talk loosely.
Still, I’m not all fists
and bad temper in jeans.
I’ve got old manners too,
even if they look mean.
A bit gentleman,
a bit rough round the sides.
A bit “say it to my face”
with tired old eyes.
I don’t chase crowds.
Never been my thing.
I’d rather stand alone
than clap when fools sing.
So if that hill is empty,
fine.
I’ll stand there still.
Not for attention.
Not for pride.
Just because I said I will.
Call me hard work,
call me wrong,
call me cold.
I’ve been called worse
and still got old.
I know what I am.
No need to pretend.
A nightmare to some,
but solid to the end.
Not perfect.
Not pretty.
Not easy to steer.
But if I love you,
you’ll never have to wonder
if I’m here.