eh, you wake up in the morning,
you hear the work-bell ring,
n' i march you to the table!
to see the same ol' thing.

ain' no food upon the table,
n' no... something something...
cos' you better not complain boy,
you'll get in trouble with the man...

let the midnight special,
     shine a light on me...
let the midnight special,
           shine a de Wallen red light on me -

cos Soho turned amber to all things queer,
and with queer turned all the stoppage
lights gearing you up to marriage a full
ahead go -
                              or in alt. castrated pop of
the Vatican **** charts - some sang some
other traffic coordination -

cos Soho sang of the green pristine ironed shirts
and the 9 and 5 daily tortoise and
birds - once it was the bees and the birds -
now it was all about birds and worms -
Soho my man, is all queer to mind you,
extortion on real estate and ****** -
but what if i paid with a diamond clad ****?
or cut my organic one off and used a *****,
half price?
                        i'd vote in solely for de wallen
section of Amsterdam, **** those little hubs
of quasi-hippies toking the cool off a joint...
i didn't go there for the cafes, i went for the brothel
cubicles...
                  ha                         ­     ha.

now, please understand me, i can understand a date
being a walk in a park, a promenade,
i understand the French concept of dating - coordinating,
walking and talk, an Islamic calendar month of binge eating
at sunset without recitation
from the book- but all this cinema,
this restaurant and drinks?
how about just a walk and talk session girl?
because, boy, you're so ******* outdated - i'd prefer
watching horror movies in a thunderstorm with lightning,
at least i'd be part of the Addam's family of Scottish Economy...

promenade! promenade with me! the airy bit of it all,
i'll have your oyster platter if i'm "sulking" an empty
stomach, and your words bouncing off inanimate things
while we seem to be walking parallel tangos,
but end up in the crypt of Caduceus.

i never finished the Soho song about the area being that
of privileged queers, and de Wallen known to the English
being shame alley - well... you should have heard the laugh
of that bubbly Puerto Rican girl... 'you know how
many i have had in me?'
what? tongues, i'm guessing the first.

i still don't know how to vote this out -
if i'd vote out, Soho couldn't compensate me,
if i'd vote in, at least de Wallen would -
well, given the statistics, i rather walk and talk
like some Aristotle tutorial -
rather than sit on my **** in a suburban semi-detached
before a television waiting for dementia.