And I’m sat in my bedroom dreaming of Loretta, Lorraine and Louise.
And Doreen who is a hunk of a man,and she can wipe every boy from the land.
And that is what London is about when you’re 14. Victorian vases and girls that are trying to stick their cosmic philosopher’s words into rhymes.
And it all smells of incense and patchouli oil and there are violins and glam make-up and wicker chairs and wicker men and Britt Ekland.
And it’s Jesus wellies and cut-off Wranglers and it’s Orrell ressies. But it could be Hyde Park and girls that could sweep, skip, jump and leap into a room full of clowns.
And the sun shines and in my mind I watch Loretta taste the wine and kick the actor from behind.
And I am now home sprawled across the sofa and Marlene enters my mind and as her make up starts to fade away I spy Ramona by the door calling me the perfect whore.
And I never lost control.
And for a while it was a very strange show.
And it got stranger as five years later I am in Hyde Park and there is no Loretta, Lorraine and Louise.
And there is no hideaway. No lady from a background of pearls. Just me spaced out in this human menagerie – fooling with bravado.
And Doreen who is a hunk of a man,and she can wipe every boy from the land.
And that is what London is about when you’re 14. Victorian vases and girls that are trying to stick their cosmic philosopher’s words into rhymes.
And it all smells of incense and patchouli oil and there are violins and glam make-up and wicker chairs and wicker men and Britt Ekland.
And it’s Jesus wellies and cut-off Wranglers and it’s Orrell ressies. But it could be Hyde Park and girls that could sweep, skip, jump and leap into a room full of clowns.
And the sun shines and in my mind I watch Loretta taste the wine and kick the actor from behind.
And I am now home sprawled across the sofa and Marlene enters my mind and as her make up starts to fade away I spy Ramona by the door calling me the perfect whore.
And I never lost control.
And for a while it was a very strange show.
And it got stranger as five years later I am in Hyde Park and there is no Loretta, Lorraine and Louise.
And there is no hideaway. No lady from a background of pearls. Just me spaced out in this human menagerie – fooling with bravado.
And you know what I’m still there.
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2 comments:
Always hot those summers. Hanging about with my mates in Green Park, London, having a sly joint and Cockney Rebel in our heads - loving the "My Only Vice" references
Yeah green park, hyde park but mainly regent's park - cockney rebel, bowler hats and doing sweet fa. those were the days.
Still play the album once a month - that and pyschomodo but never get back that feeling. but good memories
Peter J - kings x
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