Refugees from the coal herds.
Picking through the litter left afterwards
For tutu shells in the grass
Found a pound note and a key ring,
it's funny them days are past.
Saturday flicks at the flea pit,
when we had the money to go.
Always on the side of the outlaws,
and staying for the second show.
Bonfires down at the bombsite
and watching the embers glow
Candles and cake in the dark out
marking it seems so long ago
little treat on the train
Martin I could hardly stop laughing,
Eating apples off the allotments
And treading on his restaurant card 1967,
We was only eleven, seems so long ago
Maybe there's life after twenty -five
But I don't feel like sticking around
I don't want to work in a garage
And I don't want my dreams to fall
Never want to have to stop laughing