Where do all the lovers meet with one another,
In an effort to uncover what has happened to the silent days?
Despite ones on the corner, dream of something warmer
semblance of our old ways, what has happened to our handmade days?

Oh no
Oh no
Oh nooooooooo

We can pull a map out detailing the direct route
Young ones grow anxious to proclaim their advances to the fray
If we don’t wake up and the [bad word] [bad word] up
You will never have our old lane, you will never have a right of way