Lyrics

Walls signed with autographs
Ceilings full of echoed laughs
Something’s disappeared
Gurus on roller skates
Capital for swinging fetes
The area is to be cleared

A stab in the back
The smoke and the black
As it smoulders to its grave
Disappear with the fun and the fear
Another chance to misbehave

Organ tinkling organ
Marriage planning children
Spinning round and round
Rusty swings and roundabouts
Discos full of layabouts
Nowhere to be found

Come on then we’ll go down there
Let’s see the local ash tray
Let’s see if we can be happy
We’ll mess about just you and me
Must try and make it home before tea