• londonmongrel 60w

    An Ode to London's rave scene

    Fuck I miss it

    By it, I mean the anticipation

    I mean the excitement
    I mean have you seen that lineup
    I mean the queuing
    I mean the casual looks side to side
    I mean the hands in our pockets
    The bouncers, the drink by the bar, the beep on your card

    The excuse me mate while I weave through the crowd
    Joints in my back pocket
    Ready for that perfect moment to light up
    Anxious to get back to my lot
    An eccentric bunch
    Standing steady by the speakers
    All anticipating that one song
    Where you just know
    Mayhem is going to kick off
    Flurry of floor stomps
    Hands in the air
    Two stepping all over the dance floor
    Blurry smiles
    Strange silhouettes through the smoke
    I may be melodramatic
    But fuck! dont you miss it?
    I damn well do
    Shout out to the forgotten smoking areas
    Seeking refuge from reverberating smoke and sweat