The tyrant stands
Up against the club door
A bulky guy
200 pounds and only six feet tall.
I approach him, done up to a tee,
He asks my age and I hand over my fake ID.
Luckily it's raining,
So he can't see my anxious look from underneath the dark umbrella.
He nods me through
And with disbelief I step into the Promise Land I have always strived to reach.
Beautiful faces greet me
On the other end,
They stamp my hand and tell me to enjoy my weekend.
We sit on stalls beside the bar and after the first few drinks
I'm positive my judgement
Will be marred.

After the first act,
I head for another Morgans and coke
Standing by the decks the lead singer tells me a joke.
A ginger head with a West End vibe,
Said I very nearly made his night when I told him his sound seemed fresh yet familiar to me.
But he left too soon,
As they often do.

The music plays on
And I'm still trying
To forget about you.