Ice cream and dew
And the fresh air and views
And the pastel palisades
And the buckets and the spades
The footsteps on the crumbling pier
And the tiny storms of sand
And the postcard sent without a word
No-one lives
In these coastal towns
But the ghosts of you and me
Who've come to wet their feet
To walk out in the new years tide
And the violent northern brew
To cleanse them of their silent summer blues
To walk out in the new years tide
And the violent northern brew
To cleanse them of their silent summer blues
To cleanse them of their silent summer blues
To cleanse them of their silent summer blues