| On Silvertown Way, the cranes stand high
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| Quiet and gray against the still of the sky
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| They won’t quit and lay down though the action has died
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| They watch the new game in town on the Blackwall side
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| From the poisinous drains a vision appears
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| New circle of cranes, a new reason to be here
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| A big silver dome rising up into the dawn
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| Above the church and the homes were all the silver is gone
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| If I’d a bucket of gold, what would I do
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| I’d leave the story untold Silvertown blues
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| Going down Silvertown
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| Down in Silverdown
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| Going down Silvertown
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| Down in Silverdown
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| A silver dawn steals over the docks
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| A truck with no weels up on cinderblocks
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| Men with no dreams around a fire in a drum
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| Scrap metal schemes are rusted over and done
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| If I’d a bucket of gold, silver would do
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| I’d leave the story untold Silvertown blues
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| Going down Silvertown
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| Down in Silverdown
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| Going down Silvertown
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| Down in Silverdown
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| When you’re standing on thin and dangerous ice
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| You can knock and walk in for citizens' advice
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| They’ll tell you the where you can turn, where you can go There’s nothing they can tell me I don’t already know
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| If I’d a bucket of gold, silver would do
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| I’d leave the story untold Silvertown blues
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| Going down Silvertown
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| Down in Silverdown
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| Going down Silvertown
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| Down in Silverdown
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| From the Caning Town train I see a billboard high
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| There’s a big silverplane raising up into the sky
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| And I can make out the words 'seven flights every day'
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| Says six of those birds are bound for JFK
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| If I’d a bucket of gold, silver would do
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| I’d leave the story untold Silvertown blues
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| And I’m going down in Silvertown
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| Down in Silverdown
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| Going down Silvertown
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| Down in Silverdown |