Angora jumpers on the 10:15 Off to Brighton for the day She's gently swaying through her magazine Victoria is on her way
Oranges spinning in a Wimpy bar Although she knows it's not the same She sits and wonders where it all went wrong Wraps her coat around her pain
Oh, the magic in her garden never grows The places and the faces that she used to know Oh, the magic in her garden never grows The places and the faces that she used to know That she used to know
Cherry vanilla flavored ice cream cone Lingers softly on her lips The memory of a guilty phone call home The wetness of a teenage kiss
Slingbacks clicking on the wooden boards As she steps lightly on the pier She sits and watches as the sun goes down She'll be back this time next year
Oh, the magic in her garden never grows The places and the faces that she used to know Oh, the magic in her garden never grows The places and the faces that she used to know That she used to know
All the scooters, tonic suits and midnight features Shiny chrome, shiny lights and shiny people
All the blues and all the tunes of pretty faces All the kings and queens and all the aces All the Sundays and the Mondays spending wages Now growing in the gardens of suburban places