I miss Budapest

 I miss Budapest

And the tunnel with the mess

Near the Nyugati station

That you walk under to find the street of thunder 

Where the bullet holes

From the revolution lie

Like blocks of swiss cheese

Left by the armies

The Russian soldiers

Hungarian revolutionaries

How I miss Budapest 

It's all such a fucking mess

But that is why

I love that country

England is so boring and

Predictable nothing

Happens but the rains

And a submersible

Goes missing down a drain

A mother suffers

Pain

Or a PM forgets the name

Of his wife

Then

The Economy unbounds

I mean like when 

Paradise Lost is found

And he calls for all Football fans to lament

And he calls for all Opera fans

To start laying cement

On the yellow brick road To Eden

Or Scotland or was it

Swindon

I forget

I am forgotten

Because at Bottom

We are top

And ready to Rock

The world to its foundations

Just hold the gun

And pull the trigger

Because you know he is bigger

But you are better

Despite your

first reservations

So hold true to your quiver

And deliver the river

Of hearse resuscitations

I mean rehearsed recitations

I miss Budapest

and you

Baby

I miss Budapest

and you