Theres no mistake, I smell that smell, its that time of year
Again, I can taste the air
Clock goes back, railway track, something blocks the line
Again, and the train runs late for the first time
A pebble beach, underneath, pier 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 23, yet the train runs on and on
Past the place they found his clothing
Theres no mistake, I smell that smell, its that time of year
Again, I can taste the air
Clock goes back, railway track, something blocks the line
Again, and the train runs late 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's gone away