London was a friend to me
but London smells of your perfume
Crossing the road on the Strand
Some other woman wears the same scent
Some other woman
But the same aching man
to inhale and feel the rush in his heart
so sadly familiar
the scent of you
the sting of love
and London starts to cut and bruise
London is a City made of you
everything leads me back
to the sickening facts:
I want you
I do not have you
I am no longer stronger

Come to me
please