| The schoolyard noise is dead today
|
| And now we know the fading sound
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| Of our shoes as they run away
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| Our bulldogs, our rabbits, our donkey games
|
| As the river winds up and back around
|
| So take this feeling and fit it with frame
|
| The silver birch bonfire blues
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| Still burn between me and you
|
| As it burn when the river swept us away
|
| The silver birch bonfire blues
|
| Still burns between me and you
|
| And my silence seems to whisper what we want to say
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| So newspaper, petrol and broken dreams
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| Are all that stands between you and me
|
| So take this feeling and fit it with fram
|
| The silver birch bonfire blus
|
| Still burn between me and you
|
| As it burn when the river swept us away
|
| The silver birch bonfire blues
|
| Still burn between me and you
|
| And the silence seems to whisper what we have to say |