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
