Just across from my old street
There's a place called Tin Pan Alley
Where I've wandered many nights
First went many moons ago
As I walk among its ruins
Among its broken, battered brickwork
Standing proud in pouring rain
Against any punch-drunk sky

I do roam, I do roam
Welcoming the wee small hours
My reflection in the windows, those
Shadows cast on cobblestone
I do roam, I do roam
In your footsteps, smoking in the cold
The air we breathe's been tainted
Clinging to the leaves, those
Songs of old
Songs of old

Just across from my old street
There's a place called Tin Pan Alley
It's where many souls still dwell
Remnants of the last great scene
I met a man there on the corner
Picking flowers by the roadside
Said he was a household name
During the last days of Rome

Then a voice came from the cover
Yeah brother, yeah brother, yeah brother
I've one arm as long as the other
Won't you tell me
Should I repent all of my sins?
For I grow old, I grow old
I wear the bottoms of me trousers rolled
Give me your hand
Dance with me again
Before I go

Let us roam, let us roam
Welcoming the wee small hours
Oh, reflection in the windows, those
Shadows cast on cobblestone

Let us roam, let us roam
In your footsteps, smoking in the cold
The air we breathe's been tainted
Clinging to the leaves, those
Songs of old
Songs of old
Clinging to the leaves
Songs of old

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): David Keenan