Somewhere near central London I imagine not so far from Trafalgar Square and the lions There lives an older gentleman who teas with BBC and Britain's ghost His lady companion by his side. Oh yes, I see him now.
And cross the deep blue sea I cannot smell Inside a symphony the 'Pastorale'.
So besides the black rats swimming I watch the English evening skies reflect my heart As I walk behind him, Looking for what's been lost Like looking over all the trees of Hampstead Heath now before us in the twilight. No, I can't bear it now.
And cross the deep blue sea I cannot smell Inside a symphony the 'Pastorale'.
A jacket and hat...the only trace... Two gold rings... But never fades.
A jacket and hat...the only trace Two gold rings... But never fades... A face....
