About to choke his Rum & Coke, he won’t look back in anger
No more wagers, no nothing – let all of that carefree, careless strutting about the place aside utter distaste down to his younger, far more cock-sure brother
Terribly inept, a surefire waste of something or other
These birds – they are high flying, wholehearted Mancunian eyes fixed upon the prize of a lifetime – pure legacy
These caterpillar eyebrows show no such signs of remorse whatsoever, one song-writer who sought it out for his every worth
More than squirts of cocaine in the jaded albeit mind-bogglingly heady beginning
Quite literally as it were
Now substituted entirely by a fair and lightened degree of Southside family life
Right alongside Paul Weller
No knife when he might just have needed it most
Toast yourself
Breath – for you’re about to make old Oasis appear to be only that – but something of a fleeting mirage, a distant memory

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