Something’s going to happen

Something’s going to happen

Is what they keep saying

Something’s got to happen

Is what they say

I sit in the quadrangles

Of London’s imperialist

Sharp glass buildings

And the only way to look is up

The only way to see is up

Because they’re all taking photos

On the ground

On the viewing towers

And we’re under siege

The flashes and beams

Of cameras tourists

State Tate surveillance

Disorientating.

Up and down the stairs

Brutalist stooping horizons

Under concrete tucked away

Private members coffees

Signs that say nothing

And lifts that go nowhere

That we can go

The only way to look is up

Because a strange wind is coming

A howling Mary Poppins

Monster of discord

Comes in many forms

Will we take our medicine

Or lift our faces

To look up

Or dance on chimneys

With London’s invisible

Talk to the forgotten

Who laughed themselves to the ceiling

And up up the cathedrals the birds

The money rolling from the heavens

Coins dropping to the sewers

A storm is coming they say

Let it dissipate

Or flood the Thames

The British channel!

Bleeding red white and blue

Union jack

A mud stained rag

Something’s got to happen

Something’s got to happen

We say

Something’s going to happen

Something’s going to happen

Soon

Now something’s got to happen.