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Echo forever

I want to go home,
I want to be floating
borne amniotic 
on thick waves of trip-hop
through English summer days
down by the river
surrounded by old friends.
Come to me Tricky,
Come to me Tracey Thorn,
Portishead, Ramshackle,
We’ll open a strong beer,
moor the boat as best we can
and echo forever under the low bridges.
Bring the massive and the bass,
we’ll take the river to The Arms,
drink ourselves into a sunset haze
and stumble to the nunnery.
Now Underworld, Dub Warriors, 
Zion Train, come to me, 
we’ll scramble nightlong on the ruins,
and in the vestry, welcome in the sun.
These are the best days,
and they have hardly yet begun.

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