At the High Road end of Willesden Lane I'm not the best with directions I took your hand in my hand And we'd hotfoot to the confectionary When nine to five means eight to six The State Cinema means everything A thousand miles from the Kings Road crowds The boutiques on Portobello Road In the double daylight saving time Amid wood-effect linoleum I'd watch the white dot on the television Slowly disappear In the web of indoor washing lines In love around a single coal fire A thousand miles from the Kings Road crowds The boutiques on Portobello Road I'll capture the furtive looks we'd share
Scraping the frost from the living room wallpaper So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines I'll describe how the lights fell on your face Write down the Woolworth's flavoured lipstick taste So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines I'll capture the way the frozen milk Pushed up the silver tops from the bottle necks So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines I'll write down each stolen summer kiss Describe all our falling outs and the making-ups So when nostalgic eyes romanticise, I can stick to my lines