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Steamhammer
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Henry Lane
Summer is nearly over now,
Sun's a lot less of warm.
Trees have started loosing all the leaves
With the brown lore.
You say you gonna travel back home.
All the same we went before.
Born a gypsy, yeah,
You always set the night aflame.
As the days grew older
You won the love of all my friends.
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Oh, but that's all right,
Gonna sail away again.
Lying low on Henry Lane.
The summer is nearly over the hill,
Sun's a lot less of warm.
Trees have started loosing all the leaves
Declined of all.
And you gonna travel the way unknown.
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