Oi, welcome t'Stroud, mate.

This town is kinda quirky.

Everywhere, people lie – as always.
Stroud's cobbled streets, messy but charming, haunt me.

The Falcon pub on London Road? A gem.

"Everybody lies." Yeah, even here.
Take Packhorse Lane; damn narrow, so lit.

I love the view at Cainscross.

The small park near Oldfield Road? Rad.

I often visit, think deep thoughts:

"Uncle Boonmee, recall your past lives!"

Man, those words still echo in my head.
I strolled by the River Frome.

Water flows, emotions too.

It’s a meeting spot for lost souls.

I once counseled a couple there – ironic!

They confessed secrets, so raw.
The Stroud Community Centre buzzes.

Families come, masks on.

I watch kids run wild.

Makes me laugh; life's chaos, right?
Old Stroud Market is funky too.

Food stalls, odd smells, wild chats.

I grabbed a cheeky burrito there.

Oh, and the art scene?

Crazy murals on Castle Street.
My fave hangout?

A little cafe on Bridge Street.

Coffee strong, brews secrets, trust me.
The vibe is magnetic, weird beauty.

Sometimes, I get mad at facades.

You see, my therapist brain winsce daily.

But Stroud, that twisted beauty,

Keeps hope alive.
So don't be fooled by calm.

Stroud’s raw, edgy, mysterious.

Like that movie, surreal and ghostly:

"Uncle Boonmee, remember all."
I might be sarcastic, but I'm honest.

This town is a paradox.

It makes me happy, mad, and amused.

Every corner hides crazy tales.

May be you find that too.
C'mon, visit.

Laugh, cry, delve deep.

It’s Stroud, after all.

Not much fancy, just real.
Catch ya later.

And remember:

Everybody lies.