But I'm wondering the same thing.

We were so pretty, now is this it; you and I are too young for this. No blood, no lust or spit, but still there is something there to play upon. A flash of instant thereabouts, you'll miss it and it's gone; but still it's good to be in love with someone, when you’ve always had to be with no one. She said everyone's a story of their own, but if we don’t leave now we'll find ourselves with no way home. And so we strolled on all, bangered and confused; at first it wasn’t pretty but we soon undid that rouse so. Now we got something in many other ways, all the boys together and a knees up on the way; still it's good to be in love with someone, when you’ve always had to be with no one. She said everyone’s a story of their own, but if we don't leave now we'll find ourselves with no way home, find ourselves with no way home. And it occurred to me, I think on Lambeth Road, there’s no more need to question life or cry for what I’m owed. And now it's over, so now it's done, the english sun is setting and the rude boys on the run; still it's good to be in love with someone, when you’ve always had to be with no one. Still I need you to remind me every day the lives and loves we've lost and broken on the way.
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