Stories Of The Han

No one cares No one sees Said the man in striped shirt His hands waving in the air His white beard tapered His mouth singing the lyrics of Cherry Bomb I sat on my stool holding on to my cup enjoying the company of my friends Sure there’s family but in the city your friends are your family. The dancehall was broad and open, the mod kids were dressed to the nines And our conductor for the evening was a wild old man, confident in his ways, wailing, shouting and screaming with pure joy No one cares No one sees Amen.