Текст песни Ballad of the Times - Everything But the Girl
Narrow
streets
breed
narrow
minds
and
Care
for
king
but
not
for
kind
It's
a
short
hop
to
a
long
weekend
When
every
move
you
apprehend
You'll
never
find
room
to
find
your
feet
To
walk
out
of
this
avenue
Your
pockets
are
lined
with
promises
When
did
a
promise
ever
pay
for
shoes?
Counting
coal
trucks
by
the
line
And
raise
your
glasses
one
more
time
'Cause
Billy
has
gone
off
to
war
And
God
knows
what
he's
fighting
for
But
wartime
will
make
him
a
man
Work
that
no
one
see,
if
you
can
A
hero's
grave
is
six
feet
deep
not
Room
enough
for
all
his
plans
She
can
scrub
the
step
but
if
he'll
never
gleam
If
he
did,
she'd
smash
the
dream
And
they've
held
the
world
too
long
Dreams
are
what
you
wake
up
from
Father
was
a
fighter
too
The
only
way
to
jump
the
queue
Boxing
clever,
times
were
tough
But
will
that
ever
be
enough?
You'd
never
find
room
to
find
his
feet
To
walk
out
of
these
avenues
Their
pockets
are
lined
with
promises
When
did
a
promise
ever
pay
for
shoes?
When
did
a
promise
ever
pay
for
shoes?
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