Oxford Street - July 1995

Sadness lies in the Oxford Street guise

Bobbing heads that so easily resist

The man on the planter catches the mood of the celluloid city

in the camera’s eye

Disinterest in nocturnal affairs

With speed and pace, cavorting we race

The empty glass is watching us pass

No entry in here, see the corner man’s dance

Looking for sense in the lyricist’s maze

Plagued by thoughts of past and present

Memories of old span a thousand years

Oh for the summer to hasten the welcome