Furs

Furs

On a night when not a fuck was given

In an orange Mini madly driven

By a mate who far as I could tell

Was speeding and spaced out as well

I passed a joint and he said to me

The road’s disappeared mate I can’t see

Then he without any hesitation

Drove over the central reservation

Thinking it was like a dream

I saw a lorry’s lights full beam

Coming at us at full pelt

And not a trace of fear I felt

We went back over the central line

Naught came out of his mouth or mine

I skinned up again thought oh well

We both laughed and said Fucking hell

The Psychedelic Furs that night

We jointly agreed were well alright

As we stopped outside my mate’s abode

Wide awake and still in gig mode

His wife was up with Chloe the cat

We had a cup of tea and sat

Watching her in the living room

Pushing kittens out of her womb

We watched her he his wife and I

Till after a haze of time passed by

Four tiny black kittens appeared

A Purrrfect ending to a night fair weird

This strange story in my head

(One of many it has to be said)

Never fails to makes me smile

Recalling every once a while

That night with not a fuck once given

An orange Mini long ago driven

A cat and kittens no longer alive

And the Furs in London in ‘eighty five