Post War - Jack Bruce

Nothing was good or bad enough

They never had enough in store

When the feast was on the lawn

The birds had picked it clean

And gone away

We used to walk the nights of mystery

Once we would swim the length of the sea

No one was weak or strong enough

They never had the men to do the job

When the snow was in the fields

We kept our front eyes peeled For oranges

We used to swim the days of mystery

Once we would walk the length of the sea

They took the people home in baskets

Gave all the pieces to the country

They told them long stories

Made the children postmen

In among the chimneys

Nowhere was young or gay enough

They had sold out too many golden souls

When the sun was in the trees

The woodmen came to take

Their frozen fees

We used to walk the fields of mystery

Once we would swim the length of the sea

They drove the broken home in cages

Gave all the green paint to the railways

They told them long stories

Made their children weddings

In among the chimneys…