London’s Burning

Platform one, twenty-four-past
The journey time’s an hour
Or half the time if it’s fast.
Only a lighter, a fag, and a fiver
In my scruffy jean pockets.
I hope I’m not approached by a train guard…
“Morning all, tickets please”
“I’m awfully sorry, but I’ve lost it”.
“The next step is soon, alite there”
Hmmm chance for a fag, I don’t care.
I catch the next train after a smoke
And the pattern repeats, from other train blokes,
Arrive at Waterloo, can in hand, now train gates to get through.
I make it out unscathed, to busy streets like parade.
Look around, who’s who, what’s what and what’s new?
Different to a village, overpowering is the city stench
But I gather my thoughts and have a drink on a bench.
A pedestrian approaches and strongly exclaims:
“You need to sort yourself out, stop it!
And look at the state of your top, go home and wash it!”
So, I pick myself up from the bench
My thirst having been quenched.
Well, I partially took his advice
I didn’t go home, but I got off the bench…
I walk into a bar, in the end that’s west, no dive
Better than a bench, the decision was wise.
Look for my phone and like the ticket, that’s lost too
Ask a girl for the time and wake up in her room.
Wake up at four in the Am, where on Earth am I?
Blag the tube, still alive, didn’t die, It’s fine.
Reached home at seven, had a shower, such heaven.
Have a cup of tea with my mum
Recognise and regret what I’ve done.
That was back in the day – things have now changed
I’ve finally learned, that was the wrong way
To live – a life full of sin.
If one plays with fire, they will get burned
I’m covered in mental scars, from the place that is
London City – the place I don’t miss.
I’ve opened my eyes, smoke makes us cry
We have to escape the fumes, or at the very least try.
London’s burning, I now avoid the fire
So, I sing from the rooftops, like a London choir.
Just like a phoenix I rose from the ashes
Save most of my money, instead of spending cash in
A city that’s built to destroy you
It will relentlessly attempt to lure you
Into the flames with its crime, money and fame
But I’ve turned over a leaf, and this one, is new.