The Ticket

[Keith]

Slid off the train,
into pouring rain,
grey northern sky's,
half close my eyes.

The march of mates,
through platform gates
shine bright the lads,
and balding dads.

Off into town,
buy the first round,
drink after drink,
Miss Lilly's pink.

My ticket rips,
the audience flips,
opening bars,
in come guitars.

Head goes back,
stretched on the rack,
shouting the words,
my anthems heard.