| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| I tell you the town looked good
|
| Walking lonely avenues
|
| Where rhinestone cowboys find the blues
|
| There’s people in doing their thing
|
| Getting all the mozzarella in
|
| And the passing time and phasing moons
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| Words flying in cloudy rooms
|
| Plastic bags, milk, and eggs
|
| The poor old crone’s got aching legs
|
| How I would love to speak
|
| To everybody on the street
|
| Just for once to break the rules
|
| I know it would be so cool
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| Come with me and be no good
|
| Be a madman on the street
|
| Sing something out like reet petite
|
| Let’s hip hop at traffic lights
|
| Ten thumbs up and smiling bright
|
| Crossing all the great divides
|
| Color, age, and heavy vibes
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| I tell you the town looked good
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| Oh, let’s go down to Al Rashid’s
|
| All the Aussie lagers are on me
|
| Now you’ve got the absinthe out
|
| Your old mother, she wants a stout
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| As I went, it all looked good
|
| Thought about my babies grown
|
| Thought about going home
|
| Thought about what’s done is done
|
| We’re alive and that’s the one
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| Oh, let’s go down to Al Rashid’s
|
| All the Aussie lagers are on me
|
| Now you’ve got the Absinthe out
|
| Your old mother, she wants a stout
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| I tell you the town looked good
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood
|
| From Willesden to Cricklewood |