Gonna take a trip to Cornwall
Down to Trebarwith strand
Thinking about my old man
I'm parking in the top car park
It's the one where we heard Elvis had died
The rain had forced us off the beach
August 77 we sat in the car steaming the windows
Dad turned the engine on and it came over the radio
I'm following the stream down to the sea
The wall seems lower now
I can see trout Battling the current
I haven't even checked the tides
It's the end of the summer
The few shops are trying to grab
The last of the trade but the sea
Is crashing on the rocks there's no beach
I turn left and walk up the hill
It's cool and blustery but dry
I can see people sat outside the Prince William
As I get closer I can see uncle Bert and Dad
The breeze blowing his hair around
Uncle Bert is cleaning his pipe
Bits of tobacco are dropping in his pint
He's starting one of his stories
Something about catching pike in a bucket
I get myself a pint and sit with them
Dad has a chunky white sweater on
He struggles to light a cigarette against the wind
I go to say something but I guess it doesn't matter now
The tide starts to edge out I finish my pint
I ask them if they won't to walk on the beach
But Bert has ordered another pint
There's some talk of collect mussels
A run to Widemouth bay
I get down to the first bit of exposed beach
The wind has got up, a boy is flying a kite
He lets go of the string it drags in the surf
The weight on the water hold the kite in the air
The kite is blow out to sea
I keep watching it past the island
My eyes straining against the fading light
I lose sight of it, I know it's still there
But I can't see it anymore
Somethings in life are like that...