Novikov soul

There are Russian girls with Saudi wannabe in Mayfair

The bins are filled of Evening Standard around Green Park station

Young Erasmus students are already dancing at Mahiki

Boats with straws of rum and strawberry float over the miniskirts

It’s the end of summer and a sweet rain brings London back to business

It’s old and young, and intense and decadence

There are bankers with black cards and golden heart

Strippers hook some love in the blurry corners

Espresso Martini on the rocks of our middle age crisis

It’s the world thrown away like a note in a coke-addict wallie

Logos and branded dreams face sometimes the emptiness

In the soft cotton of the beats banging the minds of fellows fighting the night

It’s not about getting drunk but growing punk

A planet of possibility where bouncers and bartenders could soon become

The next game-changers or innovators

Dresses from Mulberry are worn with style and pounds

But less natural than a print ad with Delevingne

We chase the stars like we chase the tables

It’s an indoor grease we need to escape

Outdoor a black man asks us if we want sophisticated girls

We told him most of our clients pay us and not the other way round

It’s London baby when wise husbands park their bikes close to the end of time

To go back home, still in love and certainly more fulfilled


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