In the Central, with memories. We sat about there. The seat was ripped. The gents was lacking a door. The jukebox was over there, far end. You always said you meant to play Magic Bus but you put on I Want To Know What Love Is. I already knew.

None of that’s here now. The memories are but none of the rest, or you. I’m not sad. I’m just sad.

And then Dakota; plays. You and I. And I think how many songs have you missed. I’m still not sad, honest.