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Will Varley
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I Still Think of You Sometimes
On the dark seas on the outskirts where the rooftops are the waves,
I wait for you here in retrospect, wondering how you got away,
every dark haired woman passing by I turn to see their face,
hoping maybe I'm going to catch a glimpse of the girl who got away.
And the dusty clubs once smokey now smell like kerosene,
I'm blind to all their mysteries, now addicted to my dreams,
I tried making eyes with a girl in white, she smiles adjusts her stare.
Years ago I'd have chased her gaze but now I'm too old to care.
I still think of you sometimes, whenever I hear that song,
but it seems to me that every now and then fate's gonna get things wrong.
From Dublin town to Hoxton square, from Brooklyn to Canterbury,
I tried to shake you from my mind, but you won't stop haunting me,
keep creeping up behind my thoughts, always in the dead of night,
then you disappear into the sunset, just as it's getting light.
See I miss you like I miss the bitter winds, and the mists of late July,
and I hope you hang your head low now, cause you ain't no friend of mine,
hope your pockets they are empty, I hope there's nothing up your sleeve,
and I hope you grip your rosary now, every time you dare to breathe.
I still think of you sometimes, when the streetlights flicker on,
but it seems to me that every now and then fate's gonna get things wrong.
As the winds pick up momentum, on the Dover coasts,
and in the days that follow christmas, it was you that I missed most,
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and the stories from the front lines, of this endless journey round,
none of us knew it would take this long to make so little ground.
Cause we're still singing to the careless souls, in the backrooms of the bars,
Still waiting for those phone calls, whiskeys and guitars,
and the MDIs, and the checkout girls, no longer I can see,
for all I do is miss the way that you used to look at me.
I still think of you sometimes, whenever the nights are long,
but it seems to me that every now and then fate's gonna get things wrong.
Well I know I'll see your face again many years from here,
cause last night's drunken fairytale's turning to sometime last year,
but until then we'll sail away, across suburban seas,
we'll plot our course bound for the shores of mediocracy.
Yes I hope that you are happy now, and I hope that you are well,
and I hope you grip your fake ID, as you pass the gates of hell.
I take one last look at the road, I'll never see,
though it's fading now I can just make out the silhouettes of you and me,
I still think of you sometimes, when the streetlights flicker on,
but it seems to me that every now and then
yeah it seems to me that every now and then
it seems to me that every now and then fate's gonna get things wrong.
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