I sang ' Here's to you Mrs Robinson'
downed a pint of Thatchers
while the guitar played
& in the empty streets
there was the Moon
coarse & incomplete
these strange suburban nights
bring back memories of loss
& of the coming of agelessness
I never learnt how to drive
& still rely on the bus
unable to graduate from life
yet I hope my torn sunsets
& wasted loves
have made me wiser
whispering mantras
not afraid of being the outsider
forever drawing maps
*Thatchers is a cider from Somerset, England.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
I sang ' Here's to you Mrs Robinson'
downed a pint of Thatchers
while the guitar played
& in the empty streets
there was the Moon
coarse & incomplete
these strange suburban nights
bring back memories of loss
& of the coming of agelessness
I never learnt how to drive
& still rely on the bus
unable to graduate from life
yet I hope my torn sunsets
& wasted loves
have made me wiser
whispering mantras
not afraid of being the outsider
forever drawing maps
*Thatchers is a cider from Somerset, England.
