THE STREETS OF HOME
I always knew one day, when the time was right
That I would walk down these old dirty streets once more
Look at those old tenement blocks, standing in grim straight lines
Like some lost regiment on parade beneath the grey sky above
Their faces blackened by smoke from coal fires over the years
And so many grey people with grey faces looking out of their windows
For some reason, in my mind, I’m a little boy again, out playing on the street
I know so many of these people are dead long ago, but they’re talking to me
Mrs Robinson, that very glamourous woman from number thirty five
Everyone remembers her, that woman knew how to keep any party alive
Old Mr Anderson, second floor house left at number seventeen
When he got too drunk, always stories of his war and the things that he had seen
And Julie Wilson (Pause) Julie Wilson from top floor number eight
My first real girlfriend, we thought we would be together forever
I remember getting into a fight with her father one Saturday night
We’d missed the last bus home, walked, and he said that was far too late
And there at the end of that street, I would always see my father coming home from his work
My mother would shout out of that window over there to me, time to get in here for you tea
All those people and faces from yesterday, and the sound out on the streets
And that smell in the air from the biscuit factory, so close but so far away
If I could, I would take myself back in time to those streets
Why did I set sail for a new life and new streets, I ask myself often now
The land of opportunity, that’s what everyone told me, they promised
Every street looks the same in the end, when you find a new friend – they lied
I’ve had my favourite meal, and those guards will be coming for me soon
They’re never late, always on time, to take me for this last walk of mine
You killed a man that night the judge and the jury in the court all said
And for that you must pay the price, hang by your neck until you are dead
You’ve shown no remorse for your sin, not given any reasons for what you did
But I know my reason, and it’s none of their business, that’s between my God and me
REPEATS FIRST VERSE
I always knew one day, when the time was right
That I would walk down these old dirty streets once more
Look at those old tenement blocks, standing in grim straight lines
Like some lost regiment on parade beneath the grey sky above
Their faces blackened by smoke from coal fires over the years
And so many grey people with grey faces looking out of their windows
SPOKEN
I told myself I won’t see where they take me on my last walk
It’s time to once again walk down my old Streets of Home
That I would walk down these old dirty streets once more
Look at those old tenement blocks, standing in grim straight lines
Like some lost regiment on parade beneath the grey sky above
Their faces blackened by smoke from coal fires over the years
And so many grey people with grey faces looking out of their windows
For some reason, in my mind, I’m a little boy again, out playing on the street
I know so many of these people are dead long ago, but they’re talking to me
Mrs Robinson, that very glamourous woman from number thirty five
Everyone remembers her, that woman knew how to keep any party alive
Old Mr Anderson, second floor house left at number seventeen
When he got too drunk, always stories of his war and the things that he had seen
And Julie Wilson (Pause) Julie Wilson from top floor number eight
My first real girlfriend, we thought we would be together forever
I remember getting into a fight with her father one Saturday night
We’d missed the last bus home, walked, and he said that was far too late
And there at the end of that street, I would always see my father coming home from his work
My mother would shout out of that window over there to me, time to get in here for you tea
All those people and faces from yesterday, and the sound out on the streets
And that smell in the air from the biscuit factory, so close but so far away
If I could, I would take myself back in time to those streets
Why did I set sail for a new life and new streets, I ask myself often now
The land of opportunity, that’s what everyone told me, they promised
Every street looks the same in the end, when you find a new friend – they lied
I’ve had my favourite meal, and those guards will be coming for me soon
They’re never late, always on time, to take me for this last walk of mine
You killed a man that night the judge and the jury in the court all said
And for that you must pay the price, hang by your neck until you are dead
You’ve shown no remorse for your sin, not given any reasons for what you did
But I know my reason, and it’s none of their business, that’s between my God and me
REPEATS FIRST VERSE
I always knew one day, when the time was right
That I would walk down these old dirty streets once more
Look at those old tenement blocks, standing in grim straight lines
Like some lost regiment on parade beneath the grey sky above
Their faces blackened by smoke from coal fires over the years
And so many grey people with grey faces looking out of their windows
SPOKEN
I told myself I won’t see where they take me on my last walk
It’s time to once again walk down my old Streets of Home
"The Streets of Home" Copyright © Tom King 2022