Home – Writing for Freedom

Shall we take a trip down memory lane to when we went Insane in the membrane. Where stair dwellers, and shoe gazers, met boys in hats in velvet blazers. Doc boots on a Hippychick, new shoes, to the carpet stick! No Geordie Shores for our Teenage Kicks, was it Newky Brown or plain, old sick.

They told me I’m an indie kid until I started to rave but Freaky Dancin‘ was all I really craved. This Music is Shit please play some Kylie. There She Goes again, the DJ’s laugh looking a tad wily. You’re Unbelievable, Rashelle, it’s too cheesy to be cool but Spinning Around I knew I was Nobody’s Fool. I was Losing my Religion but I had found My Church and on the door, we were greeted by a guy we called Big Lurch. In the Clubbie, an Unfinished Symphony had begun, in the darkness we were even shone on by The Suns.

I missed the party when The Farm came to town and as they sang All together now, wee Shelley did frown. We made for the border and networked a lot, we were a tad naughty but never got caught. From Soul to Soul to Robbie’s Angel, we have stories to tell and though we have Sympathy for the Devil we didn’t go Straight to Hell. With No Limits, we danced in Strawberry Fields where we discovered that the Groove is in the Heart and on the Last train to Transcendental we went a bit mental.

Another Brick in the Wall left us quite dazed but as The Doors opened, we were no longer fazed. On a Perfect, Fairground attraction somehow we survived every fatal attraction. His Girlfriend in a coma, plays In the Dark, as we remember old friends who on our hearts, left a mark. Feeling ridiculous as we Sit Down with James, before we Jump Around to House of Pain. Wearing My Favourite Dress wondering Should I stay or Should I go now? before tequila slammers get me in a mess. I Wanna be Adored but it’s Closing Time so grab your coats, there’s a party at mine. Where’s me Jumper? I scream over the noise as I drown in the eyes of a gorgeous boy. “Ever fallen in love? he asks as I swoon, under the light of The Whole of the Moon. Do you remember the first time? you whispered “What’s the story, morning glory?” in the Love Shack. “Is this A Kind of Magic? I whispered back.