I am an adopted son, from distance land
Living within this here walls of riches
I am from the city of abstract
Graffiti, Bansky and lost souls found
Where black-beard once called home.
I am from the city with dungeons
Wine cellars, and dark history
With St. Andrews park, my backyard set
Where friends sit and celebrate life
I am from the city of the brisfest
Where SS Great Britain resides
And SSC bloodhound is born
The city where Harry Potter was written annex
Where air-balloons bring magic to the sky
Harbour side festivals and that of St. Paul's
The football teams
Aren't much to write home about
Same can be said of the rugby teams
Sports really not our forte,
And I hide to say that, to save my skin
Yet we still raise our flags high with pride
On the streets of Gloucester road
Down on to Montepelier to Stoke-croft
Where you did find the heart of the city, with graffiti stands
And many more in art, cafe' shops and poetry stands
To feed a feast for life's enrichment
We still yell out, No Tesco, in protest
And lose the battle, blame conspiracy and politics
As the authorities preached on false finger points
Nothing fancy, just a cultural thing on protest
This is the city of Brunel
Clifton bridge, Cathedral
Colston hall, and the Old Vic, for drama staged
This is the city of Brizz Bristol, always with drama, a free spirit
