A Spike into my Vein

Ever since I wrote the phrase “the dirty streets of London” on Sunday night, an older collection of my words have been running through my head.

Palindrome

Innocence was just a lie
You live inside the light
You let it burn you inside out
You always burn so bright

Little donkey on a high
Just toiling for a meal
Became a bitch at HMP
For thoroughbreds to steal

The dirty streets of London
Sang lullabies to you
You chased St George up Brixton Hill
And dragons spoke to you

The dirty streets of London
Sang lullabies to you
You hid yourself from all the world
And dragons spoke to you

Dalston pimp, a hackneyed tale
Square one and back again
South habits pave the teeth with gold
The hunt is not in vain

Media whores who dib dib dab
Enthralled by your decline
The London lovelies with junkie friends
‘O Dee, it’s so divine’

The dirty streets of London
Sang lullabies to you
You chased St George up Brixton Hill
And dragons spoke to you

The dirty streets of London
Sang lullabies to you
You hid yourself from all the world
And dragons spoke to you

When your hope just disappears
Your rock will hold you strong
For you see the world for what it is
And hide from all that’s wrong

When your friends all disappear
Your rock will hold you strong
For he’s the one that never lies
He’s loved you all along

Happy busking, my sweet friend.