|
|
|
Send "Pocket" Ringtone to your Cell 
|
Pocket Lyrics
Here comes Pockets His trousers hold a thousand deadly sins The maddest
things we ever found in bins He clutches them and looks at you and
grins Here comes Pockets The children wary of what they may
contain The linen may have changed, the contents same A trouser-treasure
island with no name And socially at the platform that the timetable
forgot Picking up used tickets in a station of have-nots When you're on
that train of thought You pass some pretty funky stops When you're on
that train of thought You pass some pretty funky stops That's the Pocket,
let him be - That's the Pocket, let him be Here comes Pockets Picking up
the things we cannot see A bicycle, a dame, a Christmas tree Things of no
value to you or me Here comes the Pockets Reduced through history to just
a crawl History turns the tall into the small But natural born trawlers
love to trawl And the guitar of his dreams hangs upon some wall Or laying
underneath the staircase in a hall We can carry dreams but we can't hold them
all That's why we learn the Blues before we actually fall That's the
Pocket, let him be That's the Pocket, let him be And he's clinging on to
hope Like the oak tree to the gale 'Cause finding one love letter in a
sky high jumble sale Is one single reason, why the Pocket will not fail
|
Send "Pocket" Ringtone to your Cell 
Pocket Lyrics of Beautiful South is copyrighted and AskLyrics is featuring all Beautiful South songs for non-commercial use only.
|
|