Bethesda Street
The
First
Clouded windows in bus rides
Through towns that cling on to hillsides
Back-to-back, a hundred rows
Of houses built from the same stones
On blasted heath she walks in sleep
Where winter snow lays down for weeks
She wanders alone, as the lonely must
A thousand days out with the national mistrust
Living in a sleeping nation
Part of a lost generation
Closeness came like revelation
He was her waking salvation
And rain falls, like cannonballs
Smashed her heart out on her feet
She saw him kiss her on the lips
Standing on Bethesda Street
It’s not a brand new story
She’s not the only one
Doesn’t mean that she don’t feel alone
It’s not a brand new story
She’s not the first one
Doesn’t mean that she don’t feel alone
It’s not a brand new story
She won’t be the last one
Doesn’t mean that she don’t feel alone
Inventing the Black Country 