The building was grey, chipping the paint
It was tired and fallen and poor
The figure was dim, hand on the seat
Would it just get the wheels through the door

The island of beech brimming with royalty
Desperate for something to say
And so there are those taken by bluster
They turn on the side of a coin

The building was grey, chipping the paint
It was tired and fallen and poor
The figure was dim, hand on the seat
Would it just get the wheels through the door

The island of beech brimming with royalty
Desperate for something to say
And so there are those taken by bluster
They turn on the side of a coin