Subbuteo Lyrics

Hello, my chum

It's me and I'm banging on your door

It's been far too long

Since we set the leaves alight down on the floor



I've returned for a while

To the concrete that once claimed my knees

And the stones my hands owned

As I sent them toward windows and trees



Towering trees

Towering trees



There are bangers in the wheely bins

Laser pens shone through the glass

And BB after BB fired

From behind the wall beyond the grass



And though boots met my face

And knuckles cracked me black as coal

I care not for the mindless

Who poked fear at my sorry soul



My soul

My soul



And I miss the rain on the roof

Pitstop paths and whistling streams

I miss the cold stream chips

The red subbuteo team painted green



Built on back fields,

It seemed a thorn in my child side

Instead became a grit-soaked playground

Where the propers and the poor collide



Oh, it might sound dull

But dull's sometimes all we have

Yeah, it might sound dull

But dull's all we ever have



Sometimes I talk with the meter

Of a bingo caller's east-end drawl

Who cares; we're all just trying to float

While everything seems set to fall



So hard

So hard