Zoë 25

He struggles to the breakfast table, still hung-over, hardly able
To come to terms with Monday’s new demands
To activate the microwave, to reheat Friday’s take away
The cafetiere to muster up some coffee from the grains
He lights the next last cigarette and promises himself
As he retches in the sink, to change his ways
He dreams inside the sun
Of Zoë, from London, 25
She’s foetal on the foldaway, staring at the laundry in the corner
That she should have done the night before
Listening to her flat mate singing Stones' songs in the shower
She hopes she leaves hot water when the bathroom’s finally free
Where she cries into the mirror and smudges her mascara
She’s Zoë, from London, 25
When you’re looking for somebody, you might not even see them
When they’re standing there in front of you, right before your eyes
If you’re looking for somebody you’re gonna need some help
You know you’ll never find her when you’re looking for yourself
He races to the subway station, out of breath and out of options;
He couldn’t make the phone call to explain himself away
He’s locked in a reality that’s taking time to sink in
Because he’s lost inside a daydream his mind is occupied
He turns his back on everybody, on Zoë from London 25
When you’re looking for somebody, you might not even see them
When they’re standing there in front of you, right before your eyes
If you’re looking for somebody you’re gonna need some help
You know you’ll never find her when you’re looking for yourself
She clutches at the broken heel from tripping down the escalator
Chasing her white rabbit through the tunnels far below
Where she moves around invisible, to all concerned anonymous
A dream girl in a nightmare on a journey to the stars
She makes her journey to the stars
At the Micklegate, where you lost your way, and time stood still
At the Micklegate, with my heart in chains, the dream was killed
At the Micklegate, where you lost your way, and time stood still