Nostalgic tunes, punk-rock moon
bring me back to summers that never were
times I was not there

glory days of artistic ways
careless clothes
sunbeams through a painted haze

London calling
festival craze
she knows music
this is my place

feminine cynicism
ancient delight
constructive dialogue
put up a fight

we slowly fall asleep
to never wake again
slowly killed by the common day
the common thought

that lucky resuscitation
like a manic state
transcending music
back on a silver plate

seeking the perfect pitch
that immortalises my mind
one more drink to find the switch
black on white