The Dome

The Dome

The man at the bar eyes me with contempt,
Coming in from the downpour, a little unkempt.
But hey! That's the score when you're out in a storm,
A nice cup of char will help me get warm.
The bags at my feet are packed full of buys,
And my monthly spending has shot to the skies.
My pilf has been splashed, no time for regret,
A drink at the Dome stops me getting wet.

The man at the bar, not a move does he make
So I take a seat, presume he's on his break.
Still after ten minutes, he's not here with his pad
With a look of derision, his sour face is clad.
But a table of blondes and he rushes to serve
With arse-licking duty, the simpering perv.
So I get the message, hey I'm not wanted here!
Served with a scowl and then shot with a sneer?

All roads lead to London and it's quite plain to see
That there's fun to be had, from A through to Zee.
WC2 has shops, bars and zest,
From Hackney to Brixton, squat parties are best!
In Camden there's music and the finest attire,
A temple of marble rises from Neasden's mire.
But in Royal Ken and Chelsea where they claim to have class,
Their heads and their lives are ensconced up their arse!

So proud little man, don't come out in a rash,
Coz the Kings Road's long been a centre for fash.
I can't be the only one who dresses like me,
Who occasionally fancies a class cup of tea.
Just coz you wait tables at a place called the Dome,
It doesn't mean you're upmarket or that you own your own home.
And if you claim you're exclusive, stop having a laff!
Coz at the end of the day you're just a GLORIFIED CAFE!!