Damn the tube on summer days
It sends me into a slumber haze
Thick as shit, the air is plotting
​Stuffy vacuum, heated coffin

Bakerloo looking like the end of time
To the hellish horrors of the Central line
Packed like turkeys, free will has gone soft
Forget to touch out, roll-on has worn off

Taken hostage by the labyrinth of Bank
The God of fresh air is drawing a blank
Fall in the Northern like a sunken ditch
Panting like puppies at London Bridge

The soulless glint of Canary Wharf is not far
Spy the dystopian ghost of the DLR
Ride on murdered communities, a silent glide
Machine over man, is it likely to fly?

Entering real East, smells authentic
Round about Bow, the carriage gets hectic
Walk through young families and tired men
To reach the haven of Mile End

Before you know it, that time again
The broken path that beckons no friends
Jelly legs fall under London's seduction
Edge of the City, the brink of corruption

Phallic suits chat up mums of two
Arranging shallow dates in Waterloo
When St. John's wood has no luck
It'll end in tears in a gastro pub

When we were twenty-three
We were caught in between
Too young to just settle
​Too old on the scene

We got high in the park
We got high in the yard
The highs were higher than day
The lows lower than dark

We got more paranoid
Our moods changed to the season
We sat out in the rain
For no goddamn reason

We on-offed d'alcool
And acted like students
But then when we'd see them
We'd treat them with prudence

We dreamt of seeing Bishkek
And burning our money
Our existentialism based
On the need to be funny

Our time divvied up
Between cafés and bongs
We found the music of our lives
Not knowing the names of the songs

A political cynicism
Was our fatal flaw
We coated religion in knowledge
And showed fashion the door

We swam in pessimism
And fell in love with the bus
Convincing barely ourselves
That the drugs found us

We put a bookmark in
The goals we were pursuing
We sat in the Tuesday fog
And asked "What are we doing?"