As If a Pop Star
The African girls smiling, even from the eyes,
And jumping, laughing screaming
And I, apprehensive knew I wasn’t
But wished I was only dreaming.
Id heard about the hookers
Who done business outside the door
I did not know it was quite THIS bad
Id never seen the likes before.
Getting out of the car I dropped my Coke
Which one dusky beauty pointed out
I picked it up, careful to keep my balence
Checking was there any heavies or pimps about.
As I could not see the doorway
I decided for to flee
Firmly, slowly, steadily I went
To cries of “Fooker” echoing after me.
It turns out the taxi driver
He could not understand
I wanted the hostel on that street
He though Id other things planned!
He dropped me off the wrong end of it
And as the girls on my arms tugged
I though it best to get away
In case that I was mugged.
And sitting in a new hotel in safety
As I drink a cold Greek “Mythos” beer
I think the nights events quite surreal
But Im glad to be here.
I now know what its like to be a pop star
They all want you – yet they do not
They tug out of you to take them
So they can have what you’ve got.
And some of them were beautiful
They could be models in another life
There was a kindness in their eyes
Theyd make someone a nice wife…
Yet through drugs, or pimps, or poverty
Their trade all night they ply
And get exited, screaming and smiling from the eyes
At the sight of idiots like I!
Im the only Irishman in history
That a taxi driver can leave at a bevy of hookers beside
With lots of cash in his pocket
Who walks away, and does not get a ride!