There's no mistake, I smell that smell, It's that time of year again, I can taste the air The clock's go back, railway track, Something blocks the line again, And the train runs late for the first time,
A pebble beach, we're underneath, A pier just been painted red Where I hear the news for the first time
And all the friends lay down their flowers, Sat on the banks and drink for hours Talk of the way they saw him last, Local boy in the photograph today
He'll always be twenty three, Yet the train runs on and on, Past the place they found his clothing Bah bah bah bah bah Bah bah bah, bah bah
There's no mistake, I smell that smell, It's that time of year again, I can taste the air The clock's go back, railway track, Something blocks the line again, And the train runs late for the first time today,
And all the friends lay down their flowers, Sit on the banks and drink for hours Talk of the way they saw him last, Local boy in the photograph, today He's gone away
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