Back in the day,
Down Wilkinson Way
A factory made steel shaving razors
Behind council houses for factory workers
In my garden in the present day
I see this derelict building in Wilkinson Way
But now all has changed from before
As I go to work and close my door
Music from IPod filling my ears
The green bin is full of beers
I walk today, don't take my car
The Station is not that very far
I pass my silver Nissan 1988
I see the postman's, who's very late
There's a park only a stone throw away
Down my road, Wilkinson Way
The buss pulls up at the bus stop
Just outside the Bike shop
‘Open Till Late' says the sign
But who wants to buy a bike after 9?
I turn off down the road, where they sell timber
Where the fresh smell always seems to linger
The road curves and turns and becomes straight
And then you're greeted to the South Acton Estate
Huge grey buildings in disrepair
A place in which there's no love or care
Graffiti under the arches by the shops
Drugs dealers on corners selling rocks
It's a long road, full of empty promises
It's a longer road full of empty premises
Turning right by the post box
Heading to the train stations fort knox
Barbed wire, traffic lights, busy road
Past the guy whose no fixed abode
Left turn into Acton Town train station
To a inner thrill of jubilation
You get to live another day
Navigating yourself here from Wilkinson Way
