Mid-afternoon, 3pm,
The cider-drinker’s requiem,
These tickets I hold represent,
Hard-earned cash so wisely spent.
A platform change, stairs to climb,
Made the train in good time,
This coffee is spilt, this photo’s torn,
A bitch refrain, an emotion born.

I will not talk.
(But we want you to.)

Late afternoon, quarter to five,
Train pulls in and we arrive,
At a loss. Where to go?
Ask a stranger what the signposts know.
Grab a beer and stand a crowd,
Excitement builds, I shout aloud,
A telephone or cigarette,
Can get even better yet.

I will not talk.
(But we want you to.)

This attraction breathes a lengthy queue,
Each step I take is towards you,
A program and another beer,
As the sacred moment draws so near.
Took a seat- not far from heaven,
Took a while to reach seven,
Your warm-up moves were far from great,
But I sat there at any rate.

I will not talk.
(But we want you to.)

Then you appeared and I just froze,
From my head down to my toes,
A Lotus start, the world will end,
The stage that night was my best friend.
Set on fire, you didn’t quit,
Issued libel against Brad Pitt,
Before I blinked, two hours had passed,
How do you make time fly so fast.

I will not talk.
(But we want you to.)
I will not talk.
(But we want you to.)