In the earliest days of my shoplifting career. You could safely say I was filled with fear.. It was nail biting work from the very start. But several quick sucesses soon gave me heart.. After a while I could pick or nick or steal. Some shirts some trousers and a few LPs.. No-one ever stopped me they didn't seem to care.. It sometimes seemed to me that there was no-one there.. Then a fine summers day my mates and me. Set off down the westend on our usual spree.. Things were as normal for an hour or so. Then my nimble hands were a bit too slow.. Two store detectives made a fast approach. One grabbed my jacket (you're nicked!). The other grabbed my throat.. So they caught me at last one said with joy:. "You'll have to do some time my light fingered boy!". If only I'd remembered my common sense. They captured me red-handed with evidence.. If I go to the manager and say I'm sorry. Maybe he'll forgive me for my youthful folly.. But what will me social worker say. If I don't come home today?. He'll give me a clout!. What if they don't let me out?. I told him I'm on me own!. Don't they understand?. I'm from a broken home!. I'll tell them I'm the product of a broken home. And I always went out on my own.. Was it too late to say I'd pay. And I'll never steal again 'till the end of my days?. Because I have no friends to call as such. Money and posessions I did not have much. So I started to steal in order to get by.. The quickness of the hand deceives the eye.. deceives the eye the eye the eye....