|
Empty paper bags from bread and butter |
|
Crumpled cartons void of cigarettes |
|
Endlessly they drift towards the gutter |
|
Walking down this road I can't forget |
|
In the park I used to pick the flowers |
|
And give mother her birthday bouquet |
|
In this old town I know my way |
|
This good old town of childhood days |
|
Though this old town has seen a change |
|
In this old town I don't feel strange |
|
Quite nearby there used to be a lamplight |
|
By a lover's seat where young girls hoped |
|
That someday they'd find a shining love-light |
|
My first love turned out to be a joke |
|
All at once I felt the urge to wonder |
|
Came the dawn and I was far from home |
|
But this old town when I'm alone |
|
Is still the town that I call home |
|
Though this old town has seen a change, |
|
In this old town I don't feel strange |
|
Standing, waiting in some railway station |
|
Who said it's a gateway to the world? |
|
When I reached my latest destination |
|
Then I knew the whole trip was absurd |
|
Not until some lonely nights of sorrow |
|
Did I know that I'd come back to stay |
|
In this old town I know my way |
|
This good old town of childhood days |
|
Though this old town has seen a change |
|
In this old town I don't feel strange |