Seven Sisters: twisted faces,
Hardened eyes all sunk and wasted,
Calling and heckling, cackling, shouting,
Buses and bars in the smoke and the rain,
Litter in gutters and flowers and fruit.
My muse is dead: long live my muse,
She works and wants and wonders
And she loves and laughs and lingers. She says:
I am not a red red bus that knows all corners of your city,
I am not the crowds of thousands round you who don’t see or hear you,
I am not the sun that wakes you, nor the moon that guides you home,
I am nothing more than what I am, it’s time you knew.
Rumours spread from near to far
The streets are paved with gold and so
We come here in our thousands now,
From all four corners of the globe,
Through visa blues and seven seas
And up on the 67. Seasons
Change and leaves go brown and swimmers
Swim and dreamers drown. She says:
I am not your body, all your body does is limit you,
I am not your shadow, all your shadow does is chase you,
I am not your reason or your logic saying yes or no,
I am nothing more than what I am, it’s time you knew.
We followed you half way over the globe
And we’ll follow you down to the Holloway Road
With a hole in our hearts and a memory lingering;
These days are days for working and wondering.
Willing, unwilling – a wandering eye on the ball,
Off the wall and we’re stalling for time.
Time and again the clocks tick past midday,
We’re here to work, we’re not here for a holiday.
I am not the word you whisper “mother” only she is yours.
I am not the girls you see, your fantasy, I’m nothing more…
I am nothing more than what I am, perhaps you’ll understand:
I bring the energy, colour and life to the city – come and take my hand.