sunk down to the bottom of the motorway,
found a very expressive 'work of subways,
but still not a whiff of city breath.
city of glass will end up smashed up,
so throw the seeds down and stomp the ground until they grow,
drag the saplings up by the scruff of their necks.
all of our churches and temples and mosques;
we turned them into free museums.
all of our football grounds, loved and hated, so outdated;
converted into women's prisons.
come along and see what we can offer.
state-sponsored, backing-track, street-buskers.
pay a pilgrimage to one of our seven quartiers.
you can sit her down and earnestly express
biggest doesn't always equate to best.
but these london girls know better than that.
I stared across the river misery.
I thought I looked to new york cities.
this was the renaissance with no resistance.
c.o.g.c.o.g.c.o.g.c.o.g....
(and this quarter,
we're gonna hit our quota
of ten romes a day. ten romes a day. ten romes a day. ten romes a day.)
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