Walking Back To Waterloo

I wish there was another year, another time
when people sang and poems rhymed.
My name could be Napoleon.
A thousand ships.
A windy sail, so huge and high,
it’s tall enough to touch the sky.
It’s beautiful but hard to find.
But I just wasn’t born in time.

Walking back to Waterloo again.
Where do I begin?
In the brand new street,
you can get a good seat at the end.

I can dream
of growing trees and things that live
and grass that’s green
in meadows that have never been.
But I still place my trust in the Queen.

What is life
when a man is pressured
based on wrong or right?
And I don’t know what it means.
There must be more we haven’t seen.

Walking back to Waterloo again.
Where do I begin?
In the brand new street,
you can get a good seat at the end.

Walking back to Waterloo again.
Where do I begin?
In the brand new street,
you can get a good seat at the end

Walking back to Waterloo again.
Where do I begin?
In the brand new street,
you can get a good seat at the end.