Simon Crane - 27th July 1965 - 9th December 2015

I wrote this song for him some months back. He liked it and that's all that matters.

"We ruled the roost: the eighty nine flats.
We ruled them fair. We ruled them just
And everyone knew when the party started
We'd all be there. We'd all be there.
And who bought the wine and who bought the beer
And who brought the smiles to everyone's faces
And who brought the talk of the town to dance
When we were kings.
When everything closed at 12 o'clock
The streets were dead. The streets were ours
We sat on the grass on. The hill down the park
We watched them play. We watched them play.
And deep in the night, we'd track down the milkman
He must have been scared. He must have been scared
When
We
Were
Kings.
And after the Dalmane and pale white skin
You saw the world. You went beyond
And took to the road like a bird on the wing
You told me so. You told me so.
And I sat rapt with the globe you weaved
I wanted in. I wanted in.
We took on the world and sometimes won
When we were kings.
What's it all coming to running like we did
Just snot-nosed, smart-arsed brainiac kids
With rage in our eyes. Our hearts on our sleeves.
What's it all come to?
With you in Verona and me in the gutter
You pulled me up. You held me high.
And all of the things that we never said
Adventures we would never share
You lent me a guitar and five free chords
I won't look back. I won't look back.
And swam beneath the beautiful waves
Your beautiful fingers.
And you stopped playing, found it too easy
And I was shit so I pressed on.
Strange rhythms and their melodies
In both our lives.
Locked in a room playing pointless games
Who would be the first to speak.
Spitting off the treacherous headland
When
we
were
kings.
What's it all coming to running like we did
Just snot-nosed, smart-arsed brainiac kids
With rage in our eyes . Our hearts on our sleeves.
What's it all come to?
Stick around.
What's it all coming to running like we did
Just snot-nosed, smart-arsed brainiac kids
With rage in our eyes . Our hearts on our sleeves.
What's it all come to?
Just stick around.
What's it all coming to running like we did
Just snot-nosed, smart-arsed brainiac kids
With rage in our eyes . Our hearts on our sleeves.
What's it all come to?
Stick around.
What's it all come to?
Your long beautiful fingers.
Long beautiful fingers."

Crane