There’s a gig on tonight, do you fancy going?

Should be a sell out, you were lucky I got tickets really.

It’s in my friend’s room across the hall from me, it’s in his self contained flat,

you O.K. with sitting on a worktop and don’t forget if you need to smoke,

you will have to crowd surf across at least a three people sat down

and then watch out for the girl on the ground floor

who likes to catch leavers and ask for photographic evidence

of the set-list so she can write a review of the sound that

came from the ceiling above.

The after show-party in the shower room will be a blast,

and we spent all day yesterday giving it that authentic venue like

touch, the local police will be round about ten pm so we can

break it up and get back to what we are here for, of course to study,

after all,

we cannot rebel all the time can we?

The songwriter’s back catalogue is infamous as he has spent so long

searching for his own self worth and place in the world as he wandered

between History and Geography, with the odd dabble into the pornographic

magazine he found stuffed down the back of a forgotten seat that was untouched

by the council, perhaps we should petition for a plaque to be installed

as this guy has learnt so much from life as he sat

cross-legged staring at his books.

We will dim the light down low and it will be just like our parents remembered

except that of course we will feel safe, (but beige), as we learn how

to be good consumerists and write and hear proper music,

music the way it was meant to be, alone and in the dark,

no need to ever leave the house, the bubble

is quite secure.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015.