suns of lundun (v1)

Roll up, sign up, you’re city needs you
Roll up your roll up, let the cherry burn true against the serene, green milieu of aged childhood dreams,
Sign up, pack up your suburban blues
roll up on a train called a tube,
Lubricated by the oils of blood, sweat and toil
Who’s for the game? its just a game
Being splayed by the cold bullets of rain
Under a sky always battleship grey
Entrenched rich and poor,
Skyscrapers soar,
Businessmen flying, spitting fire,
Cars tyres scream like sirens
Blitzing up to uniforms trudging a concrete mud,
always moving, always tired, always trying
Alls fair, no rules, no blame,
Who’s for the game?
Owen’s going and his review was glowing
Weren’t it? Well maybe I’m just joking

But when the smoke has cleared and leaves only a mirror
I can see myself here a little clearer
So enough of the sarcastic jingoisms
Cos bored to tears me, I really don’t miss him
Semi-detached dreaming and its middle aged face,
Are replaced by the consuming scenes of this place:
Waterloo bridge, thames silvered by the moon
A ghostly mist drifts whistling an old cockney tune
Hi, you alright, got a light, my names tom
Lovely to meet you, what dya do, where you from
The suns of london warm all our cheeks
The viscous air is one we all breathe
The city don’t care but is always forgiving
Of the play-fighting
It’s all alright when the suns shining
When the suns shining


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