Uncover the Hidden Story Behind Today’s Afternoon Street Performances
Passer-by footsteps are a beat
while printed lyrics, straight out of a songbook,
flutter on nearby window curtains over a paper street.
Couples hand in hand talk of fingers in a pie
while babies in their prams deafen sighing parents as they bawl and cry.
A hat on the pavement coins a musical refrain,
but market forces won’t change till a chorus kicks in again.
I just sit and listen and chain smoke till it breaks.
Forget what’s going on around the world cos it’s a load of (rhymes with this busker rocks)
and is nothing to do with me as, elsewhere, money bag criminals on red carpets seem to always be getting away with it to fanfare handshakes.
Meanwhile, feet on the ground, another song is a-foot played by an afternoon busker in old socks.
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