The terraces of the Seventies
are only filled with rain.
The cornershops and B roads
are flattened by the main.
The older state still standing,
and shaken by each truck.
But the house where we first made love
went down
to let the tarmac up.
Headstrong...

The wallpaper curled and dirty,
the curtain rail pulled off.
The first time you cried and scratched my back
I heard your old dad cough.
And after on our elbows,
we watched the traffic crawl,
underneath the orange lights
and across your bedroom wall.

Headstrong...
and cocksure.
Headstrong...
and cocksure.

I pick my friends like scabs,
none of them heal.
And when my finger stabs,
none of my feel.
And the nightclubs are shut for you,
you must be twenty-four at least.
But I'll still come in spirit,
first love won't rest in peace.

Headstrong...
and cocksure.
Headstrong...
and cocksure.

Those were our horizons,
our holiday for two.
Just beyond the cooling towers,
a panoramic view.
I don't remember leaving you,
we both were in the states.
There always are a lot of girls,
looking for a candidate who's...

Headstrong...
and cocksure.
Headstrong...
and cocksure.
Headstrong...
and cocksure.

The DEVILS Made Me Do It!
The Fields of Eden