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Bon Scott In London

All these shadows look familiar
Along concrete alleyways
Beneath third world stones
Existing in echoed waves
In perfumed houses
On cul-de-sacs
In apartment high rises
And through the roads 
To silent meadow grasses
With feeble laughter near crystal ponds
That mimics brazen hopes
Made in softer times
Quietly, by the river bed
For rearranged completion
Of one's faulty defective being

Brittle bones on iron lungs
And memory returns to childhood
Before breathing was difficult
With sun on grass
And birds singing in trees

Shadows of the morning leaving
There will be no storms today

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