I remember the black and white eighties
When the people owned their shops
Not just the proprietors
But those around who flocked
For communion
And connection
On a Saturday afternoon
Wether marital arts
Or comics
Music
Clobber
Video games in smokey gloom
Chapter one and Ogre books
Backtracks and Probe
The leather shop and flip
Down a pasty for fuel
It was always grey and overcast
Rain off cobbles danced
Outside of short lived record shops
The mood only enhanced
The breakdancers with their Lino
The suedeheads and the goths
Sick Thrashers and glam posers
Sitting off and taking stock
Uneasy tribes would gather
From both near and far
Then up the hill to Shaolin World
To buy a throwing star.