I don’t dwell on the whiskey burn Or on lager-foamed lips Rouge lipstick mark hints Of a bruise to form and swell You say you remember it well Of me doe-eyed, above the glass That captured a moment passed
Sleuth youths with young lungs Huff up Villier’s smoke - so cool Smirking, as we watch the girls In vintage skirts, they coyly twirl With kindling eyes and Gordon’s wine In shy reply.
Echoes of the night before Slowly fade in violet hours. What’s so inviting under Arches Now clatters back to the Strand, Away from Embankment And stolen midnight kisses.
So to remove a part of me Is to remove a world of Pride. A journey not yet run its course, A journey not at its hearse ; For if it is not alright , Then it is not yet the end.
Without due care I flick the end Towards the river well . It roars and sighs, By the ‘friar, Past the Tower, And Shadwell, All through Rotherhithe.
It’s not the end, it’s not the end . For we go on and on Just like the Thames.