It is a glorious day, the only interruption being that of a bumblebee. Imaginary music and the words of Kasabian fill the vacuum as many remain cutt off. The coronavirus explodes and both seeks and destroys the British Legion and the empire.
I might be a man of simple pleasures but for crying out loud. All through the night, days are forgotten. We could all become wasted, like lost souls forever. Praise you, for it’s not eez-eh .
I can’t see the signs of a real change a coming, so get yourself a million miles from the concrete jungle, for this is a time full of fear, full of anger. Many are on fire, wired up to machines like prisoners. Many have had their final goodbye kiss. It’s a doomsday scenario for some but you can’t shoot the runner.
You could put your life on it that for many video games is the biggest treat, for others scissors, paper, stone whilst some will be playing secret alphabet games.
Ladies and gentlemen, roll the dice. A stuntman will look out through the glass and will dream of running battles and a good fight, but not with the doberman.
Feels like I’m lost in a moment, keeping myself riding on this train of self-isolation, yet one day happiness will definitely return, twentyfourseven . Neon noon will appear through the clouds.
We will be thick as thieves once more, looking for action, seemingly re-wired with a fast fuse. We will be able to roll just like we used to, for really the party never ends.
Once an underdog, the comeback kid will return. He will live to fight another day, live to fight again, again, again, again.
with special thanks to Kasabian whose words and lyrics inspired this article