Old people down in Tidcombe Lane.
Every day the people pass.
Every day, the same old cars.
I wonder if they see me, two
Old people down in Tidcombe Lane.
I wonder if the cars that pass
Have far to go to work..
Every day, the same again.
And every day in Tidcombe Lane,
The same in time and place again,
It seems, but no. It's not the same.
For if I stand in years to come
And wait for cars in Tidcombe Lane,
The seven thirty rule of thumb
will never be the same again.
The vacant faces will have gone.
The cars that passed are rusty now.
Replaced as time moves swiftly on,
With someone else's rule of thumb.
I'd like to know if Tidcombe Lane
Will notice how much things have changed.
And with all this variety,
Will Tidcombe Lane remember me?