Despite the younger generation moving in
Eastbourne's a far cry from being a city of sin
With its fish and chip shops and amusement arcades
In this place i spent many a days
Watching old folk stumble by on Zimmer frames
Past the children playing their made up games
The old pier sticks out like a tortoise head
Where lovers kiss and make up for the things they have said
In the winter months the skies are as grey as the buildings
And the waves are as high as their Victorian ceilings
Teenage kids stand observing it all from under the promenade
Drinking cans of beer, thinking their hard
But the reality is they are as hard as the Eastbourne rock
And when they grow up their in for a shock
Trust me i know, cause this is the place my dad was born
This seaside resort, East of Eastbourne.
