[Liverpool 1976. All we ever really had in common was that we were witnesses.]

The ghost of a statue under a shadow that’s no longer there

The waft of cheap scent

The click of a clog on Brownlow Hill

I told her I’d sparred with Mickey Bennett

Fixed up cars for Danny Tucker

Punched above my weight

On Brownlow Hill  one faded Tuesday

God were we so easily led

I’d take orders from any passing fly

And weighed about the same

I was weak and I was wanting

The devil knows why

We saw fag ash, heard footsteps and marks in the road

A busted stiletto heel

We saw his car throw her forty yards

On Brownlow Hill that faded Tuesday

You know that we’re weightless when we’re gone

We will be lifted up whilst they are all dragged down

She knows I’ll be weightless when I’m gone

As we walk up Hope Street arm in arm