Days in the rain<br />
Down to Josephine's house for tea<br />
French toast and Elvis<br />
French kisses for a boy called me<br />
<br />
Scrumping apples in Harrow<br />
Throwing fallers at black Austin cars<br />
Lemon-ices at De La Mura's<br />
Plotting my life by the stars<br />
And I remember the scent of my father's Christmas cigar<br />
<br />
Traces of lives<br />
Like gold -dust in a museum of rooms<br />
In the corner the black and white television<br />
blinking like a prophet of doom<br />
And I remember my father falling like a stone from the moon<br />
<br />
It's all in the past<br />
It's all in the photographs<br />
It all looks familiar, but we don't know the places<br />
We know that we love them<br />
But we cannot put names to the faces<br />
Those faces -- those beautiful faces<br />
<br />
Days in the rain<br />
Bruises and powerful scars<br />
I swollowed a sixpence<br />
Someone said: " Who'd you think you are? "<br />
And I remember the scent of my father's Christmas cigar