The old rocker wore his hair too long. Wore his trouser cuffs too tight. Unfashionable to the end drank his ale too light. Death's head belts buckle, yesterday's dreams.
The disc brakes drag, the chequered flag sweeps across the oil-slick track.. The young man's home; dry as a bone. His helmet off, he waves: the crowd waves back..
Shake a leg, it's the big rush, can't find a taxi can't find a bus.. Bodies jammed in the underground evacuating London town.. Nowhere to put your feet as the big store shoppers and the pavements meet..