|
Well I'm thinking of wet streets |
|
And pubs that glow gold |
|
But a gun with a night sight |
|
Is all that I hold |
|
Don't you take any bets |
|
On me getting old |
|
And I'm dreaming of Swansea tonight |
|
Yes and I'm dreaming of Swansea tonight |
|
In Whitehall there's an MOD |
|
Man altering facts |
|
Whilst we crouch and study |
|
The events of anthrax |
|
Don't forget the Sierra |
|
Is due it's road tax |
|
And I'm dreaming of Swansea tonight |
|
Yes and I'm dreaming of Swansea tonight |
|
Yes and I'm dreaming of Swansea |
|
Does the cistern still leak |
|
And we've slept in these same |
|
Bloody suits for a week |
|
We're fluent and tutored |
|
In military speak |
|
But it seems like the sky's |
|
Been on fire a week |
|
And I want to cry out |
|
In Swansea tonight |
|
And the tabloid boys' own war |
|
Of three Shredded Wheat |
|
Doesn't write of our scared lads |
|
When describing our feats |
|
And I'd love to be with you |
|
Just ironing the sheets |
|
And hold you in Swansea tonight |
|
Dreaming of Glasgow tonight |
|
Dreaming of Streatham tonight |
|
I'll be dreaming of Swansea tonight |
