The multiple choice between Megadeth, Magnum, ‘Maiden or Metallica

T-shirts, crumpled to hell, beaten, seven shades of death

inside a second hand washing machine that dribbled

four star oil and council pop with regular ease

and threatened to catch fire whenever you weren’t looking,

locked horns with

the odd bit of your own valuable

spilled blood and redeemed soul,

imprinted forever, stained but unsullied and undefeated,

that always goes well with a great pair of jeans and trainers

that none of your well-meaning friends would be seen

dead in.