Waves of memories go through your head All the senses keen and sharp Running like a river through the futute and the past Standing on the coal and iron mountains Surrounded by a white and downy mist
Walking through Blaenavon's streets Historic miners ground The memories go back to the place where I was born Standing in a cold and humid room See my mother trying to light the stove
Listen to the oldman's stories On the ground of St.Peters church He says the smell and taste, it is in your head Hidden in a part of your brain Feels like the memories of your past
At Blaenavon in the mist At the mine or in the streets At the moor of my home townTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
