Christos on the jukebox
Ellie in the booth
Reading under cover
Smoke is peering through
Marxists at the Lincoln
Cheering Emmylou
Pinning their ideas
On a board next to the fruit
Watermelon slices
Tiny Greek coffee
Drunkenly slamming
All the silent bourgeoisie
The air is blue and cold
Art has never paid
Writing manifestos
During folk song cabarets
It was late that evening
Michael was cleaning up the mess
Irina was winking at Pheonix
Such a room was heaven blessed
Years later at a reunion
It felt like they had never left
Academia and allotment gardens
Had replaced protest arrests
Socialist agendas
Lighting up their eyes
Leftist arguments
With the neo-liberal aligned
Immigrants are chanting
They'd never felt so alive
Speaking full of passion
At this home they had arrived
It was late that evening
Michael was cleaning up the mess
Irina was winking at Pheonix
Such a small room was heaven blessed
Years later at a reunion
It felt like they had never left
