Al Stewart: Apple cider re constitution

When we came to the station all the trains were rusty,The doors were open and the windows broken inThere was grass in all the cracks and the air hung mustyThe travel posters were flapping in the windSo we moved through the dust and gloomPlaying waiting games in the waiting-roomLay our sleeping-bags out on the floorCHORUSAnd on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple ciderLeaves me here without a place to goIf I followed the coast road, I'd be home by eveningThe harbour lights still cut across the bay>From the slot machine arcade the lights go streamingTo the bikes outside the rock 'n' roll cafeAh but you know those small town bluesAre really too much to lose-There's nothing really there to go back forCHORUSAny railway station would be just fine, fine, fineTo settle down and wash the cobwebs from your headIf your situation's running dry, dry, dryFind a waiting-room beneath the stars to make your bedYou know London can make your brain stallThe streets get cold and empty on a rainy nightSo you duck into the subway station, you can hear the trains callThey want to take you to the Earl's Court Road, but it don't seem rightAnd there's na, na, na noowahOn the juke-box, singing in the burger barSee the people's faces in the passing cars don't want to knowCHORUSYOu have the most appealing surface I have seenBring it over here, lay it down by meDon't mean to make you nervous, I just meanTo make you see, this is the place to beWhen we came to the station all the trains were rustyThe air was empty and the platforms overgrownThere were old tin cans and cats and the doors were crustedWith mud and leaves and names carved long agoand the rails go on forever in a silver trail to the setting sunYou can follow them anywhere you want to goCHORUS