Pigeon

I’m on your side, simply effortless in flight Bustling travelling kings cross desperate for something to eat ‘d be a similar kind of man to meet Born in the curve of the wooden spoon Fed for some time, then it shall all be up to you Grimace and rumble for the next piece of food Mind the spike lain o’er my head And if you’re not dead yet Here’s my final chunk of bread pet Find shelter beneath Victoria Doors will never open for you