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Thereīs no mistake, I smell that smell
Itīs that time of year again, I can taste the air
The clocks go back, railway track
Something blocks the line again
And the train runs late for the first time
A pebble beach, weīre underneath, a pier thatīs 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
Heīll always be 23, yet the train runs on and on
Past the place they found his clothing
Thereīs no mistake, I smell that smell
Itīs that time of year again, I can taste the air
The clocks go back, railway track
Something blocks the line again
And the train runs late for the first time
Today
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
Heīs gone away