Getting hung up all day on smiles
|
Walking down portobello road for miles
|
Greeting strangers in indian boots,
|
Yellow ties and old brown suits
|
Growing old is my only danger
|
|
Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks
|
Lampshades of old antique leather
|
Nothing looks weird, not even a beard
|
Or the boots made out of feathers
|
|
I'll keep walking miles 'til I feel
|
A broom beneath my feet
|
Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street
|
|
Nothing's the same if you see it again
|
It'll be broken down to litter
|
Oh, and the clothes everyone knows
|
That dress will never fit her
|
|
Getting hung up all day on smiles
|
Walking down portobello road for miles
|
Greeting strangers in indian boots,
|
Yellow ties and old brown suits
|
Growing old is my only danger
|
|
Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks
|
Lampshades of old antique leather
|
Nothing looks weird, not even a beard
|
Or the boots made out of feathers
|
|
I'll keep walking miles 'til I feel
|
A broom beneath my feet
|
Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street
|
|
Nothing's the same if you see it again
|
It'll be broken down to litter
|
Oh, and the clothes everyone knows
|
That dress will never fit her
|
|
Getting hung up all day on smiles
|
Walking down portobello road for miles
|
Greeting strangers in indian boots,
|
Yellow ties and old brown suits
|
Growing old is my only danger
|
|
-----------------
|
Portobello Road
|
| Cat Stevens |
