The Falcon that heard the falconer

The shelves were empty, 4pm darkness
Snow such as we hardly saw even at the end of ’10
The edge of capitalism, the last stop before you fall over
Such as no generation will know again

A town that crumbled and decayed; turned round in ’00
No next generation will know the journeys beyond
Isolation, one step out, what couldn’t be obtained
An edge which fell between all and pleased few

(The Beatles vinyl my mum wanted, when I was a young fogey)

iTunes, YouTube and Spotify can have no equivalents
That might have been a problem for Tories in another time
But all they are today is Whigs; Marx phase one without phase two
And the fewer gates are kept the better

Last day in another town, first colour ad on Southern
The shelves were emptier still, it was Lawrence
Filthy dark, cold, instant inspiration
And never did I know better that you can never go back

(Author’s note: the subject of the last verse here led directly to something I wrote on my first site.  The usual reservations apply, but in this case, its inspiration actually liked it.)

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