Somewhere near central London
  I imagine not so far from Trafalgar Square
  and the lions
  There lives an older gentleman
  who teas with BBC and Britain's ghost
  His lady companion by his side.
  Oh yes, I see him now.
  
  And cross the deep blue sea
  I cannot smell
  Inside a symphony
  the "Pastorale".
  
  So besides the black rats swimming
  I watch the English evening skies
  reflect my heart
  As I walk behind him,
  Looking for what's been lost
  Like looking over all the trees
  of Hampstead Heath
  now before us in the twilight.
  No, I can't bear it now.
  
  And cross the deep blue sea
  I cannot smell
  Inside a symphony
  the "Pastorale".
  
  A jacket and hat...the only trace...
  Two gold rings...
  But never fades.
  
  A jacket and hat...the only trace
  Two gold rings...
  But never fades...
  A face....