Yeah
Hit it, wacky

These roofs, slate gray
It's England, it's autumn, it's Tuesday
And summer is long away
But I'm okay

My time, no crying
I'm drinking if somebody's buying
The ghosts of my teachers sighing
In the breeze
Over me

'Round in Golden Lane
Truant on a bicycle in the rain
'Round in Golden Lane
I dream a world away

This school machine
You're taught to do everything but dream
They separate scum from cream
By trying to screen
The not so keen

Your hair, your clothes
Your attitude, everything shows up
The pupil who turns his nose up
Won't get in
You're in the bin
'Round in Golden Lane
Truant on a bicycle in the rain
'Round in Golden Lane
I dream a world away

Hush, no sound
Now the leaves are on the ground
And the wood is very still
I will write a li'l note from my mother
Saying I'm ill

'Round in Golden Lane
Truant on a bicycle in the rain
'Round in Golden Lane
Under a dying horse chestnut tree
I'll be alone, please wait for me
Bring some tobacco and some Rizlas maybe
I've got nothing to do but I'll do it quite happily

In Golden Lane
In the rain
Golden Lane
In the rain
Golden Lane
Golden Lane
In the rain
In the rain
Golden Lane
In the rain
Golden Lane