The wind blows
Down the seafront
Clearing out the rubbish
A mindset in a headlock
This town is knit of honey, flies and sick
A dated receipt
A TV repeat
A footnote between the sheets
And they who come undone
Should not remain unsung
And they who come undone
Should not remain unsung
So throw your hat to the ground
And swear that you never meant to reach around
Well, I heard that
You let fly
A quiver of communities (the red eye)
Well, I heard that (down the seafront)
You mirrored strange ways
In quiet streaks of course
A full office quip
"Son, give me that grip
We want you going, going quick!"
And they who come undone
Should not remain unsung
And they who come undone
Should not remain unsung
So throw your hat to the ground
And swear that you never meant to reach around
Going quick…
And they who come undone
Should not remain unsung
And they who come undone
Should not remain unsung
And I'm not far from the crowd
But I can see them hoisting that beady cloud