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Cat Stevens ~ Portobello Road


Getting hung up all day on smiles Walking down portobello road for miles Greeting strangers in indian boots, Yellow ties and old brown suits Growing old is my only danger Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks Lampshades of old antique leather Nothing looks weird, not even a beard Or the boots made out of feathers I'll keep walking miles til i feel A broom beneath my feet Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street Nothings the same if you see it again It'll be broken down to litter Oh, and the clothes Everyone know that that dress will never fit her Getting hung up all day on smiles Walking down portobello road for miles Greeting strangers in indian boots, Yellow ties and old brown suits Growing old is my only danger Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks Lampshades of old antique leather Nothing looks weird, not even a beard Or the boots made out of feathers I'll keep walking miles til i feel A broom beneath my feet Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street Nothing's the same if you see it again It'll be broken down to litter Oh, and the clothes Everyone know that that dress will never fit her Getting hung up all day on smiles Walking down portobello road for miles Greeting strangers in indian boots, Yellow ties and old brown suits Growing old is my only danger more free lyrics

Getting hung up all day on smiles
Walking down portobello road for miles
Greeting strangers in indian boots,
Yellow ties and old brown suits
Growing old is my only danger

Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks
Lampshades of old antique leather
Nothing looks weird, not even a beard
Or the boots made out of feathers

I'll keep walking miles til i feel
A broom beneath my feet
Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street

Nothings the same if you see it again
It'll be broken down to litter
Oh, and the clothes
Everyone know that that dress will never fit her

Getting hung up all day on smiles
Walking down portobello road for miles
Greeting strangers in indian boots,
Yellow ties and old brown suits
Growing old is my only danger

Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks
Lampshades of old antique leather
Nothing looks weird, not even a beard
Or the boots made out of feathers

I'll keep walking miles til i feel
A broom beneath my feet
Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street

Nothing's the same if you see it again
It'll be broken down to litter
Oh, and the clothes
Everyone know that that dress will never fit her

Getting hung up all day on smiles
Walking down portobello road for miles
Greeting strangers in indian boots,
Yellow ties and old brown suits
Growing old is my only danger

more free lyrics

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