The first day of the rest of our life
For which with you the best summing up
Is pain, joy, love, a little strife
But love always anyway – you’re nice
I don’t need being told that twice.
All through the years every now and then
I’ve made my lists and packed my bag
To leave old Brentford town again...
This is the first Spring I remember
I don’t feel hope. You died in spring
And surely that one kept an ember...
