Stereophonics
There's no mistake, I smell that smell It's that time of year again, I can
taste the air
The clocks 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 had just been painted red
Where I heard the news for the first time
And all the friends lay down the flowers
Sit 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 that train runs on and on
Past the place they found his clothing
(hinzugefügt von Frudd)