Watching the high street bustling by
I'm not sure if I'm disgusted, ill digested or just want to cry
The buildings, the streets, the people, all want to make me weep
The Turkish barbers, the tattoo parlour,
All just a front they must keep
Friends with carers, soon with pallbearer, a life they cannot lead alone
Sat on street corners, dealers with quarters, all nattering on their mobile phones
Most smoking a vape, different flavours to take
So many races I could not name
Nowhere to park
The place an old mask
Of a generation now mostly all gone
Just jump online
Amazons just fine
For those shoes to be dropped at my door
We just sit in our seats
No longer a heartbeat
Our old friend
The British High Street....

JJB