Pocketbooks - The End Of The Pier lyrics

I'd brush down a charcoal grey suit Fasten a skinny grey tie and I'd picture you fixing your hair up Ironing neat sunray pleats in a circular skirt I'd practice the steps in my hall I'd try out my quickstep and side kicks round chairs by the kitchen room table Until typically just as it started to click, along came the Twist We'd meet at the end of the pier Spin around the Edwardian ballroom and drink Vodka Collins from hipflasks And stroll back to land with a Woodbine in hand You'd laugh with the girls from the shop We'd kiss on the decking and smile at the leather-clad teddy boy try-hards Bet they wished they could dance the way that we danced round that old wooden hall, and who would have thought That I'd be the one who sits at the end of the pier all alone watching the tide That I'd be the one who stands at the faded pavilion doors Watching the space where we'd dance to the bands on a Saturday night The gatehouse got burned to the ground The cafe became an arcade and our ballroom became a casino The old helter-skelter unused and unloved I can picture your dress spinning round Sometimes I can still see our love in the candyfloss-sharing young couples that pa** But I bet they can't dance the way that we danced round that old wooden hall, and who would have thought That I'd be the one who sits on the end of the pier all alone watching the tide That I'd be the one practising side kicks and lifts round the hall in the same charcoal suit Fire brigade staff, the next time it's burning and everyone's safe, please just stand aside Or I'll be the one who still stands at the faded pavilion doors Watching the space where we'd dance to the bands on a Saturday night