Sunshine Street

White picket fences
Proud against the storm
Marking out the houses
Holding back the lawns
A thousand tended roses
Whose smell defies the road
A hundred window boxes
Waiting to explode

Running all the way to Sunshine Street
Not a drop of rain to wet my feet
It’s where I began where I complete my time
Sunshine

There’s a pretty village green
Where stands a mighty oak
A rubbish cricket team
Playing for the joke
The women’s coffee morning
In the hall two times a week
With flowers to arrange
For the washed out summer fete

The Coalman has his lorry
The veggie man a cart
The library visits once a week
The Butcher has no heart
The Milkman drives his float
Kids jump it for a ride
Put their fingers through his gold tops
To steal the cream inside

The Church bells ring on Sunday

Not everyone attends
Some will make the cakes
Some will make amends
Others tend their gardens
Or polish up their cars
Some hold up their noses
While some prop up the bars

It never rains, on Sunshine Street
No broken glass, under your feet
No hoodlum paint, no racial wars
Except perhaps, behind closed doors

Lead Vocals, Guitars and misc’ parts - Jon London
Drums and backing vox - Paul Gunter
Upright Bass - James Stathatos