The time I think most clearly the time I drift away. Is on the bus-ride that meanders up these valleys of green and grey. I get to think about what might have been and what may yet come true. And I get to pass a rainy mile thinking of you. And all the while all the while I still hear that call. To the land of gold and poison that beckons to us all. Nothing changes here very much I guess you'd say it never will. The pubs are all full on Friday nights and things get started still. We spent hours last week with Billy boy bleeding yeah queuing in Casualty. Staring at those posters we used to laugh at:. Never Never Land palm trees by the sea. Well there was no need for those guys to hurt him so bad. When all they had to do was knock him down. But no one asks to many questions like that since you left this town. Chorus:. And tomorrow brings another train. Another young brave steals away. But you're the one I remember. From these valleys of green and the grey. You used to talk about winners and losers all the time - as if that was all there was. As if we were not of the same blood family as if we live by different laws. Do you owe so much less to these rain swept hills than you owe to your good self?. Is it true that the world has always got to be something. That seems to happen somewhere else?. For God's sake don't you realise that I still hear that call. Do you think you're so brave just to go running to that which beckons to us all?. Chorus:. No not for one second did you look behind you. As you were walking away. Never once did you wish any of us well. Those who had chosen to stay. And if that's what it takes to make it. In the place that you live today. Then I guess you'll never read these letters that I send.