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
