Ghosts of Soho
Concrete facades
Bricks crumbling
As the edgy hoover sucks up history
Sucks up life
Soho Square
Will soon be bare
As London is raped of its identity
Taking the character
The atmosphere
The nostalgia
The London we all love
The French House flags flutter in the wind
The ghosts of Bacon, Farson and Bernard
Sip on their phantom drinks
And take tokes from their phantom cigarettes
Swirls of smoke, drifting up into the air
Spiralling and creating its own music
Dean street is mean street
Not such a clean street
Brothels are still there
While women show everything bare
You might even get a refund if your lucky
The ghost of Charles Dickens
Sings at The music hall on Dean Street
And the rain is like mirrors on the street
Reflecting all of the sky
The ghosts of Soho
The ghosts of Soho
Lyric Celine Hispiche