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Clive Gregson
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This Town
The pace of life gets faster,
It runs from day to day,
from pitfall to disaster,
It's just a step away,
The word is out already,
And it moves as fast as sound,
And it seems that now the time
Has come to close this town, this town.
Of all the stupid reason,
Well this must beat the band,
The lawmen and the workers,
All getting out of hand,
They tear the place to pieces,
And sell it by the pound,
Then look the other way,
When violence hits this town, this town.
The poor, the weak, the helpless,
The new born and the old,
All live and sleep in one room,
But can't keep out the cold,
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While those of strange persuasions,
Burn houses to the ground,
So sons of other nations,
Aren't safe to walk this town, this town.
The kids will crowd the schoolyard,'
And the drunks will fill the bars,
And the only undertaker will drive the funeral car,
And the local weekly paper has already closed down,
So noone will write the story,
Whent hey come to close this town, this town.
Now like my father's father,
And like my fathert oo,
Well I would work the land,
As I was born to do,
But the land is all on fire,.
For twenty miles around,
And no one really wants to be
The last to leave this town, this town... our town.
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