APPLE CIDER RE-CONSTITUTION Song Lyrics

AL STEWART ||

There are more songs by AL STEWART that are not in albums here Title: Artist: AL STEWART Song: APPLE CIDER RE-CONSTITUTION - ID: 633157 - Date and time (posted): 2006-02-21 15:26:58
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When we came to the station all the trains were rusty
The doors were open and the windows broken in
There was grass in all the cracks and the air hung musty
The travel posters were flapping in the wind
So we moved through the dust and gloom
Playing waiting games in the waiting-room
Lay our sleeping-bags out on the floor
And on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple cider
Leaves me here without a place to go

If I followed the coast road, I'd be home by evening
The harbour lights still cut across the bay
From the slot machine arcade the lights go streaming
To the bikes outside the rock 'n' roll cafe
Ah but you know those small town blues
Are really too much to lose
There's nothing really there to go back for
And on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple cider
Leaves me here without a place to go

Any railway station would be just fine, fine, fine
To settle down and wash the cobwebs from your head
Oh, if your situation's running dry, dry, dry
Find a waiting-room beneath the stars to make your bed'

Cause you know London can make your brain stall
The streets get cold and empty on a rainy night
So you duck into the subway station, you can hear the trains call
They want to take you to the Earl's Court Road, but it don't seem right
Cause it's na, na, na noowah
On the juke-box, singing in the burger bar
See the people's faces in the passing cars don't want to know
And on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple cider
Leaves me here without a place to go

You have the most appealing surface I have seen
Bring it over here, lay it down by me
Don't mean to make you nervous, I just mean
To make you see, this is the place to be

When we came to the station all the trains were rusty
The air was empty and the platforms overgrown
There were old tin cans and cats and the doors were crusted
With mud and leaves and names carved long ago
And the rails go on for ever in a silver trail to the setting sun
You can follow them anywhere you want to go
And on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple cider
Leaves me here without a need to know

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