I am the oxygen running Through the veins of London, I am weaving my way through The crowds of people, Commuters, Tourists, Family, I feel the wind Of the trains Pulsating through the air, Running its fingers through my hair And over my body, There metallic cries cascading through the tunnels, Where will I go? The Northern line to Tottenham Court Road? The Central line to Liverpool Street station? There is only one destination I yearn for, Above the concrete, The tiles and wires, The pipelines and emptiness, I want to be at home With you again.