Pocketbooks - The Beaujolais Lanes lyrics

Take me back to the ochre-coloured towns When you were 20, I was 21 And we left the city to its own devices for a while Just one last summer then we'll knuckle down Hand in hand, we hugged for warmth on midnight ferries and I skimmed the guidebook and you drank tax-free red wine I picked up lines from dated phrasebooks and You took a biro and sketched out maps of the Beaujolais lanes Where the tailbacks run for miles Another vineyard and another chance To identify complexity, expressiveness and taste From the Côte de Brouilly to the distant look on your face And gradually our June vacation Lost its sense of anticipation somehow With every swirl and taste and savour Well I could sense you drifting further away And across the scattered towns The connoisseurs and wind-swept tourists Pursue a true perfection with a smile As the tears run down the gla** The wine you drink straight from the vineyard Will fade as winter months draw nearer Replaced with every year The wood-smoke has gone to our heads Now you're heading back to the city and I am lost in the Beaujolais lanes As the celebrations fade I was 22 then, you seem years away Just as anyone in marketing can speak a simple spiel When something's new, it's got a raw appeal Then with time, we start to see a clearer picture Perceptions shift and attractions alter And I can taste wine with objective rigour I speak the language and everything's crystal clear Across the scattered towns The connoisseurs and wind-swept tourists Pursue a true perfection with a smile As the tears run down the gla** The wine you drink straight from the vineyard Will fade as winter months draw nearer Replaced with every year The wood-smoke has gone to our heads Now you're heading back to the city and I'll Go aimlessly stumbling back Back through the Beaujolais Lanes