Atkin-James
I flew home into the city after dark and in the clear
With a seat beside the window and the usual thrill of fear
When the spoilers send you sliding down the drain
The sky was full of London all around the tilting wing
I could have hooked a street out like a pearl and diamond string
But I think my fingers couldn't stand the strain
And to the ruined tower came the Prince of Aquitaine
In the continental terminal the maxi-coats look rich
It'd take a better eye than mine to even fault a stitch
The simple hair is golden as the grain
While in Piccadilly Circus hunkered down and neon-lit
There are kids with ancient faces who are praying for a hit
But tonight the only free one is the rain
And to the ruined tower came the Prince of Aquitaine
The highway lights of sodium are cut and set like gems
They run like this in whisperlines until they reach the Thames
Their afterimage wealthy in the brain
Beneath the bridge's footway in the shelter of the stair
A cripple plays harmonica for pennies from the air
While the river proffers answers to his pain
And to the ruined tower came the Prince of Aquitaine
In idle docks they're due now to be running out of meths
Their eyes inside the darkness like a latterday Macbeth's
As Birnam wood comes close to Dunsinane
I have brought them all the plunder of the international jets
An envelope of sugar and two hundred cigarettes
So I know now that my quest was not in vain
And to the ruined tower came the Prince of Aquitaine