Mid-afternoon, 3pm,   The cider-drinker’s requiem,   These tickets I hold represent,   Hard-earned cash so wisely spent.   A platform change, stairs to climb,   Made the train in good time,   This coffee is spilt, this photo’s torn,   A bitch refrain, an emotion born.      I will not talk.   (But we want you to.)      Late afternoon, quarter to five,   Train pulls in and we arrive,   At a loss. Where to go?   Ask a stranger what the signposts know.   Grab a beer and stand a crowd,   Excitement builds, I shout aloud,   A telephone or cigarette,   Can get even better yet.      I will not talk.   (But we want you to.)      This attraction breathes a lengthy queue,   Each step I take is towards you,   A program and another beer,   As the sacred moment draws so near.   Took a seat- not far from heaven,   Took a while to reach seven,   Your warm-up moves were far from great,   But I sat there at any rate.      I will not talk.   (But we want you to.)      Then you appeared and I just froze,   From my head down to my toes,   A Lotus start, the world will end,   The stage that night was my best friend.   Set on fire, you didn’t quit,   Issued libel against Brad Pitt,   Before I blinked, two hours had passed,   How do you make time fly so fast.      I will not talk.   (But we want you to.)   I will not talk.   (But we want you to.)