Ballad of the Times

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 apprehend

You'll never find room to find your feet

To walk out of this avenue

Your pockets are lined with promises

When did a 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 six 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

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 a promise ever pay for shoes?

When did a promise ever pay for shoes?