Owen Sheers - Joseph Jones lyrics

Of course I remember Joseph Fifty press-ups before a night out, hair sheened with gel, air dead with scent when he pa**ed. Told us all how he got his red wings over the bandstand railing. Her skirt, an umbrella blown inside out, White tights shed to high heels. How he would stand at the bar, stroking his chest with one hand, drinking with the other; the making of a small town myth - XR2 late night fights, a trial once with Cardiff Youth.