London, my London / Shared in your name and lived under your spell / Lost in the flickering flame of a dream that took us there / New beginnings on sites of devastation / Brutal beginnings of hands – held pitted and weary / When in cabinets their stories are told / whispers heard through the aural shelter / Earning respect, no matter skin or language / The Barbican saw our lives performed / at once impromptu and mundane / Secrets shared through visions of terrains exposed and re-framed / London fragments of a ruin again, yet eternally modern / Now, in lo-fi gardens we find ourselves / With all our monsters conserved, dirty and beautiful / Forever surrounded by disturbances - minor but lucid / So our solace, for now, is contained – in four-squares / In the chapel of our Barbican forever / Regina embodied looms above us, in pearls + sadness / Barbican, we wont forget but now our journey continues / Meet us at the airport, a Modern Babylon is beckoning ★