Dull Poetry, Podcast, September 18, 2017

David Bowie

00:00:00

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The rain soaks through my pores, 
And covers my bones, 
I am lost in this town, 
That's all I know. 

He steps out from the shadows, 
With the perfectly coiffed hair,
And the cat eyes, 
What an elegant affair. 

That sexy leather jacket, 
That looks like James Dean, 
I am taken aback, 
By the magic within. 

Not a connection, 
Not love at first sight, 
I'm just taken away, 
By the loneliness of the night. 

Pub life is for friends, 
For people you know, 
Or strangers who yearn, 
It's a story, not a show. 

He buys me a pint, 
Doesn't bother to charm me, 
He looks bored and unafraid, 
He is the ship, I am the sea. 

And the next moment in his car, 
Driving away from the city, 
Not going too far, 
He's not you, what a pity. 

I kiss him, un-enthused, 
Who does he look like? 
With a warm cold smile? 
David Bowie, the enigma, 
I'll take this for a while.

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