He was fact
I was fiction
We met in the middle with music
Our common ground
Was the record player churning out:
The Smiths, Pixies, Joy Division

We met on a dance floor
Which we never left
Grew older listening to new stuff
Alongside the classic tracks
Never grew tired of the talk
Of lyrics and melodies

He was the fact to my fiction
He could quote lines
Recall intros
Win the pub quiz with some obscure
Knowledge that only he had
From Saturdays spent at gigs

He was my fact
My one solid line
In a world made of fiction
He was that which made it all OK
The cassette tapes and 12″s we listened to
Festive Fifties, Peel Sessions, all special, all true