At The Chime Of a City Clock

A city freeze

Get on your knees

Pray for warmth and green paper.

A city drought

You're down and out

See your trousers don't taper.

Saddle up

Kick your feet

Ride the range of a London street

Travel to a local plane

Turn around and come back again.

And at the chime of the city clock

Put up your road block

Hang on to your crown.

For a stone in a tin can

Is wealth to the city man

Who leaves his armour down.

Stay indoors

Beneath the floors

Talk with neighbours only.

The games you play

Make people say

You're either weird or lonely.

A city star

Won't shine too far

On account of the way you are

And the beads

Around your face

Make you sure to fit back in place.

And at the beat of the city drum

See how your friends come in twos;

Or threes or more.

For the sound of a busy place

Is fine for a pretty face

Who knows what a face is for.

The city clown

Will soon fall down

Without a face to hide in.

And he will lose

If he won't choose

The one he may confide in.

Sonny boy

With smokes for sale

Went to ground with a face so pale

And never heard

About the change

Showed his hand and fell out of range.

In the light of a city square

Find out the face that's fair

Keep it by your side.

When the light of the city falls

You fly to the city walls

Take off with your bride.

But at the chime of a city clock

Put up your road block

Hang on to your crown.

For a stone in a tin can

Is wealth to the city man

Who leaves his armour down.