S'funny, the things that you miss

Things I miss, seem to come and go
Yesterday was “Eastenders”, today it’s snow.
Peggy shouting “Where’s little Mo?”
The pure white blanket, free of shadow.

You can lay your hat, you can call it home
But oh to see the Millenium Dome.
To be besides the London eye
It reaches high up to the sky

Big Ben chiming, Routemaster roaring
Tubes a whooshing, Taxis overcharging

The grey swirls around you, they call it a fog
You cough and you wheeze, you know it’s a smog
The rain pours on you, it’s probably acid
Because now your skins all flaky and flaccid

Soho, Comptons, Halfway II
A gay ghetto all waiting for you
You probably think I’m taking the piss,
But really, s’funny, the things that you miss.