Kirsty Taylor and
Kemmi Gill: This City
This city int pretty but it’s mine
lovin this city
well it can tek a long time
when yer growing up wi nowt
like a rose that grows in concrete
and finally yer big but ya still ant found yer feet
feeling lost can’t find yer flow
so yer waking up wi questions, like should I stay or should I go?
leave the thing that med ya, the thing that meks ya shine
Bradford int always pretty
but least it’s summat to call mine
This city int pretty but it’s home
we’ve been lost, we’ve been found
n we’ve faced the unknown
politics n prejudice
breadlines n benefits
we don’t come from much
but we do come from hope
see we were raised on these streets
we were raised on these roads
we weren’t built to break
or to face it alone
Bradford ain’t pretty
but it will always be home
This city int pretty but it’s ours
it’s not just bikes n quads n horses n cars
or riots n racists, heartache n cuts
ye it’s a city that’ll batter you
n kick you in yer guts
but it can pick you back up
it’ll always pick yer back up
tell ya to be tougher n mek yer
try ya luck
tell yer
git up charver n
you know how we do
cus when yer from round here
there’s always summat you’ve bin through
summat that gives ya courage , summat that meks you hard
this city’s proper brutal
n it’s ours.
This city ain’t perfect but it’s theirs
it’s pride, ambition n aspiration in the air
we strive for difference and change
cus we don’t wanna stay the same
no longer will we allow false narratives to keep us in chains
amongst these streets where many of our stories begun
we choose to dance to the beat of our own drum
its melodies, and catchlines
slogans and straplines
mullets and tramlines
causing trouble just to past time
its late night drives and waltzers and fairs
this city ain’t always perfect but it’s always theirs
This city int perfect but it’s mine
wi babbys in tower blocks just chillin on breadline
dreams strung up int skyline between lamp posts n the pylons
families sat in dark cus they cant afford to put light on
hopes graffitied out in spray paint just flaking on the railings
hanging out to dry just like the governments n it’s failings
waiting to be snatched of aspiration, robbed of self esteem
joyriding to escape an imagination absent of dreams
always someone ont run praying their chain won’t get ragged
this city int always pretty
but a swear it’s not that bad
This city int perfect but we’re here
through chaos n danger but we’re not living in fear
we’re living in hope, we’re living in change
Bradford’s in us bones n it’s pumping in us veins
there’s so much here to feel pinned against the cities walls
it might kick ya to kerb but it’ll never let ya fall
when it’s all yerv ever known, it’ll never really let ya go
Bradford int perfect, but it’s home.
I said Bradford int perfect, but it’s home.
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