There's no mistake

Smell that smell

It's that time of year again

I can taste the air

Clocks go back

Railway track

something blocks the line again

And the train runs late for the first time



Pebble beach

We're underneath

A 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 a photograph



Today



He'll always be twenty-three

Yet the train runs on and on

Past the place they found his clothing