Ballad Of The Times Songtext / Lyric

Narrow streets breed narrow minds and

Care for king but not for kind

It's a short hop to a long weekend

when every move you apreehend

You'll never find room to find your feet

to walk out of this avenue

Your pockets are lined with promises

when did you promise ever pay for shoes?






Counting coal trucks by the line and

raise your glasses one more time

'Cause Billy has gone off to war

And God knows what he's fighting for

But wartime will make him a man

Work that no one see, if you can

A hero's grave is 6 feet deep not

Room enough for all his plans.



She can scrub the step but if he'll never gleam

If he did she'd smash the dream

And they've held the world too long

But dreams are what you wake up from



Father was a fighter too

The only way to jump the queue

Boxing clever, times were tough

But will that ever be enough?

You'd never find room to find his feet

To walk out of these avenues

Their pockets are lined with promises

When did they promise ever pay for shoes?

When did they promise ever pay for shoes?