Such a popular song so I’ve tried to make it as obscure as I can:
The houses look the same with their brick walls, white windows and front gardens freshly mown. The gravel on the drives has been swept, the hanging baskets are watered. They look empty as I walk out of the cul-de-sac where I live, everyone has gone to work in the city and I’m left here in the blue skies of suburbia.
I find a coffee shop, order my cappuccino and reflect on my success, the daily paper cast to one side, the crossword complete. I’ve escaped from my past, my past on that grimy street with its humdrum life that I grew up in, but I still feel it in my ears and see it with my eyes.
I used to watch the daily life of the people in that street and dream of another world. Now I’m in that world, and I dream of those everyday people walking my street, the bankers, the barbers, the nurses, the firemen. Everyday people of the city living everyday lives.