[Spoken Word: The Nasty Poet]
He asked me if I knew how to hide a body. I said I'd been doing it for years. He wanted me to hide his, said he couldn't think straight. He was only away late, even hidden alive in the evening. Slipped past, lift past, uneasy steeze, he was criminal because he was so hard to please. Had me on my knees, freeze, frozen. Head closed behind curtains, end of play, end of show, and all left shown is bloody knees and battered dungarees. He said, "See, let me be the worst me, the best me, I'd forget me if you let me, I'd be everything over me."

[Verse: Rett Nicholl]
Should have told me that
Now your words don't sound the same
I ain't caught a light ghost in the rain
You can say I'm wrong
But you used to take my pain away
Now all I want is to feel something
Sky is painted cobalt grey
And now my thoughts are run astray
And I thought that it would make a difference
You say you want me alone
The only thing I've ever been is

[Chorus]
And I thought that it would make a difference
You say you wanted me alone
The only thing I've ever been is
And I thought that it would make a difference
You say you want me alone
The only thing I've ever been is
And I thought that it would make a difference
You say you want me alone
The only thing I've ever been is
And I thought that it would make a difference
You say you want me alone
The only thing I've ever been is

[Spoken Word: Bapou Costi]
At night time when everyone's in bed, spark asleep, I'm in the tunnels dark and deep. While they're catching Z's, I'm catching reaches, creeping on top of sleepers, writing what I'm preaching, screaming upon my features, they try and teach us. Lies on the bus, lies on the trucks, I see the truth of stones glisten on the other side as I run through all colours, I run and hide. Fuck the society, never asked me to subscribe. And now I'm stuck on the lines where the weather's the only news I need, and that shit comes lying. They attack us on the daily through The Daily Mail and they set us up to fail. That post gone, they set fire to my cells, and now I'm stuck in a drunk game of telling tales. But one thing saves me as I roam this prison floating on a prison made of Harry and Lime, the ying and the yang is how I balance mine, but why? Why run a wing when you were born to fly? Why settle for less because you're bored and tired? You gotta look deep inside and compel the light that beats out the darkness with the chrome by it's fire. And now I'm alone, where it's nice these days.​