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Nash Harding
por
Paul Shapera
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Michael: There’s a kid who goes by Nash and who’s been drifting round the streets No memory past a few months ago and really violent dreams No where to go and barely sleeps, he makes some change by day Painting street art for pedestrians, he’s magic some might say Cause at night in the back alleys, he paints things you can't believe Lands and magic doorways, otherwordly scenes Otherwise he hangs out in all the hippy clubs and coffee shops Hiding from Arcadia, measuring days with coffee cups Nash: When the good times rage and they’re all so thrillеd And you’re glad you’re herе at the bash but still You’re the stranger who just wandered in You’re the juice who’s lost inside a sea of gin You’re the orphan at the ballroom dance You’re the bum in stolen coat and pants Cinderella waiting for the chime Of the midnight bells and she’s lost track of time And spare a drink for the gate crasher And you think your mind may be broke you’ve no Memories before a few months ago Since you woke up in that strange odd place Did you exist before that very day
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